


In Ruins

by Lightningpelt



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (in which Ryou is too good a game master for his own good), Alternate Universe - Ancient Egypt, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Ancient Egypt, Beast Tamer Yugi, Ghosts, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Moral Dilemmas, Role-Playing Game, White Mage Ryou, mahad doesn't show up for a little while but, you should be excited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-08-10 21:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20141983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightningpelt/pseuds/Lightningpelt
Summary: When Ryou swipes an ancient Egyptian artifact to use as a prop for the gang's weekly Monster World session, he expects to get in some amount of trouble for it. What he doesn't expect is to open a gateway into the ruins of the distant past.He certainly doesn't expect to become well acquainted with the King of Thieves, uncover the story of a nameless Pharaoh, or battle a demon-god. But a good Game Master is ready for wherever the story takes them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been such a pleasure to participate in the YGO Big Bang this year!! So many thanks to the mods for all their work, as well as the wonderful artists I was paired with! ;w; As per event rules, a chapter will be posted per day until it's complete~ Thank you for reading!

“You have arrived. Sand unfurls in waves around the travelers, spilling over each horizon like the endless ocean. Dawn stains it pale pink, but more vibrant streaks of scarlet taint the sky—the blood of adventurers who’ve journeyed here before. You wonder how life could endure in such a place, and a hot desert wind strikes you, buffeting clothing. Loose grains of sand sting exposed skin. Already, the sun is rising. You remember the warning of the Nomad: ‘The heat of daylight will conspire with your enemies—sap your strength; spark quarrels like brush-fires; draw misfortune to you like a plague of blood-drinking insects.’

“What do the travelers do? The party has five minutes to discuss.”

Ryou Bakura turned over a five-minute hour glass; stared at his friends with the impassive face of a Game Master. Across the table sat Yugi, Jounochi, Anzu, and Honda—the last of whom was fidgeting in his seat. Save for his own tools—notebook, laptop, pencil—Ryou had cleared the table to mimic the desolate desert landscape; the four miniatures of his friend’s characters looked especially small and lonesome, bunched together near their side of the table.

“We can’t keep going blindly forward,” said Yugi—half-elf, a level nine Beast Tamer. “Not with the sun already rising.”

“And what, just wait around here?!” demanded Jounochi—human, a level eight Warrior. “There’s no cover or anything!”

“That Nomad could be an enemy, anyway,” Honda—human, a level eight Magic Gunman—added. “No way should we let his 'warning' keep us from our treasure!”’

“But we’re already weakened from that last fight,” pointed out Anzu—elf, a level nine Magician. “Let me recover some magic and I can heal everyone _before_ we go wandering into some deadly desert. Look, Jounochi, you’re at half-health!”

“I don’t think the Nomad would mislead us,” Yugi added, with a glance at Ryou. Ryou stared impassively back. “He gave us supplies, too.”

“It’s pretty clear this is the final battle of the campaign,” Anzu added. “We can’t afford to charge in unprepared.”

“Three minutes,” Ryou interjected.

“We need a plan,” Yugi said.

“If we stop here, we’re gonna get attacked from behind!” Jounochi argued.

“We can’t let those monsters get the jump on us!” Honda agreed. “I say we keep moving!”

“Guys!” Anzu objected.

Yugi chewed his lip; glanced again at Ryou. After years of playing together, he felt confident that he knew Ryou’s play-style. Sometimes they used an online generator in place of a Game Master so that Ryou could adventure alongside them, but most of the time Ryou was their G.M. It wasn’t like Ryou to use an explicit warning—and later remind them of that warning in narration—as a red-herring. It was too transparent a trick. If he really wanted to ensnare them at this stage, he would’ve used a more clever ruse. The missing game board was also a tell—Ryou prided himself on the Monster World stages he created, and usually the party could glean some hints or direction from the construction of the board itself. The fact that Ryou has forgone it meant that he had something _very_ special—and likely difficult—in store for this final battle.

Besides all that, the White Mage hadn’t yet appeared.

“Time,” Ryou announced. “Have the adventurers reached an agreement?”

Jounochi and Anzu glared at one another. It was Yugi who shook his head and sighed, “No...”

“Since the sun has just appeared above the horizon, a decision must be reached now. The Beast Tamer rolls for ‘staying put.’ The Warrior rolls for ‘moving forward,’” Ryou said, and scratched something down in his notebook.

Jounochi glared over at Yugi; Yugi sighed and picked up his dice. They rolled.

“07–a critical for the Warrior Jounochi.” Ryou jotted down the results. “By sheer force of his passionate fighting spirit, the Warrior convinces his comrades that they must keep moving. He and the Magic Gunman do not trust the Nomad’s warning, although the Beast Tamer and the Magician have known reservations.”

Anzu muttered something at Honda, who glared smugly back, and Ryou motioned for the miniatures to move forward.

“The Beast-Tamer calls upon Pao and Pokii to join the party,” Yugi said, and glanced at Ryou.

After a beat, Ryou modded. “As they are the Beast-Tamer’s oldest and closest familiars, the Beast-Tamer summons both Pao and Pokii without cost.”

Ryou brought out the corresponding miniatures and passed them to Yugi, who placed them beside his own character. _Thanks, Ryou!_

“You’re overreacting, Yuge,” Jounochi said, running a hand through his hair. “Just watch.”

“Time passes,” Ryou said. “The sun rises, and the heat becomes stifling. It’s dry—parching flesh and scorching sore eyes. The adventurers don’t speak unless necessary, and pass water-skins back and forth. There’s no sign of life among the burning sands. Instead of regaining HP through rest, the harsh environment drains you of it.”

“I knew we should’ve stayed put!” Anzu said.

“The sun is almost at its zenith when the adventurers are forced to stop. You can feel your strength ebbing, and are grateful for a small outcropping of rocks that provides shade. Among you, the Beast Tamers familiars are unaffected by the heat, but everyone else is exhausted. You must stop to rest during the hottest part of the day, or risk heat-stroke. Do you proceed?”

“We’ll stop,” Yugi said, and received no arguments.

“See?” Anzu hissed. “We’re in way worse shape now! I don’t even have the magic to get one of us back to max HP, let alone all of us!”

“No enemies so far, though,” Honda said. “So we’re a little worn out—no big deal. Better’n gettin’ ambushed if we’d waited back there!”

“Yeah, no one’d follow us into this desert—no way,” Jounochi added. “We’ve got—“

The table gave an ominous rattle, and Jounochi jumped; gave a strangled squeak. The table shook again—Ryou’s doing, a firm hit from below with one knee, and the Warrior’s miniature toppled.

“The sand dunes quake!” Ryou’s voice rose, and Honda yelped as the table gave one more tremendous heave. “The outcropping of rock splits open, revealing a pathway—do you enter?”

“Yes!” Jounochi shouted, and got a less-enthusiastic agreement from the other members of the party.

“The adventurers descend,” Ryou said, and brought out a comparably small stage. Half of it was enclosed, hidden from the players, but the open half appeared to be a standard ruin-scape. “Beneath the surface of the desert, you find the ruins of an ancient settlement. Sections have collapsed, but this portion seems to have been protected by the stones above it. You enter, and see no sign of life—or of a mechanism that would have allowed the pathway to open on its own.”

“Hello!” called Jounochi, and Anzu socked him in the arm.

“The Warrior’s call goes unanswered," Ryou narrated. "The light filtering in from the world above is dimmed by the dust filling the air, but the heat of the sun has also been tempered in the underground cavern. Something golden glints ahead—do you investigate?”

“Yes,” Yugi answered, with a glance at his comrades. “The Beast Tamer and his familiars lead the way.”

“The Warrior’s right beside him!” Jounochi added.

Ryou nodded. “You approach the glint.” He reached beneath the table, then, and his players all tensed. “You find—“

As impressive an artist and craftsman as Ryou was, the object he brought out clearly wasn’t his handiwork. It was heavy metal, shining golden despite the damages of time that had weathered its surface. A ring in shape, it had four sharp baubles dangling off it, and a place where a fifth seemed to have been snapped off by some trauma long ago.

“—an artifact. It seems like it may have great value, both for material wealth and magical power.” Ryou placed the object on the table, then said, “Footsteps sound on the passage down from the desert surface—hurried. What does each adventurer do?”

“Grab for the artifact!” Honda said immediately.

“Call up a simple defensive spell,” Anzu said.

“Draw my blade!” Jounochi said. “Honda, you got the artifact?”

“Yeah!” Honda replied.

And Yugi, quietly, said, “I move to greet the newcomer.”

Ryou’s mouth curved upwards; he knew he’d been seen through, at least that one little bit.

The White Mage was Ryou’s own character—a level thirteen Magician who joined the party whenever Ryou played alongside the others. But when Ryou was G.M., the White Mage would always make a cameo as an NPC—sometimes friend and sometimes foe, but always consistent with his general characterization; always the same White Mage Ryou. This campaign, they had met and befriended him in the very first scene, but not encountered him since then.

“The White Mage enters, dusty from his pursuit across the desert. He stumbles and falls to his knees, but cries out, ‘Brave Gunman, do not touch the artifact!’”

“Oh shit!” Honda yelped.

“The Magic Gunman already has the artifact in his hands,” Ryou said.

“I drop it! I drop it!” Honda cried, and Ryou nodded.

“The Magic Gunman drops the artifact, but it’s already begun to glow with a strange power. When it strikes the ground, it gives off a small shock of defensive magic.” He nodded to Anzu. “The Magician’s defensive spell protects the group, but the artifact continues to glow. An ominous aura fills the ruins.”

“I ask the White Mage what’s going on!” Yugi said, and Ryou inclined his head.

“The White Mage is out of breath, and waves off your question. He stands, then holds out his staff and preforms a level nine sealing spell!”

“Did it work?!” Honda demanded, and Ryou shook his head.

“The artifact seems to absorb the Mage’s white magic. The White Mage stumbles.”

“I run to support him!” Yugi said, and Ryou shot him a tiny smile.

“As the Beast Tamer lends his shoulder, the White Mage gasps out, ‘I tried... to catch up... It must not be allowed to escape!’ before losing consciousness.”

“No!” Jounochi cried. “Dude, we need more info than _that_! Don’t just pass out before—aah!”

Ryou rattled the table again, startling Jounochi and making the artifact and the miniatures jump. “The artifact’s glow is intensifying! What will you try?”

“If a level nine sealing spell didn’t work, my magic doesn’t stand a chance!” Anzu exclaimed.

“We retreat!” Yugi said.

“No way!” Jounochi argued. “We stay and fight! Whatever it is is escapin’ for sure, so we’ve gotta stop it here!”

“Our HP’s way too low, idiot!” Honda shouted.

“You’ve wasted your time arguing!” Ryou declared, and then reached forward to pick up the artifact. “Like the collective ghosts of those who once inhabited this ancient place, a violet miasma begins to flood from the artifact. It...”

Ryou’s eyes widened; his friends stared back, waiting with baited breath. Yet, instead of continuing, Ryou lowered the artifact. His hand hit the table with a soft _thunk_.

Yugi broke character first—“Ryou?”

Ryou’s eyes grew wider still, for a beat, flashing as if with reflections of things that weren’t there, and then they rolled back. His hand still on the artifact, he slumped forward; collapsed onto the table.

... ... ...

Shapes—shadows, black and gray and lavender and violet—obscured Ryou’s vision, flooding the space between him and the adventurers. The shadows enveloped him—he saw his friends' alarmed expressions; saw Yugi coming towards him; saw Honda’s mouth moving as he shouted something. He felt the artifact, cold and heavy as he grasped it with shaking fingers.

Then, blackness—it only lasted for a moment, but proved long enough for Ryou to think on where he might have gone wrong. When he’d decided upon the desert ruins for the site of the campaign’s final boss battle, he’d taken the liberty of borrowing a certain artifact from his father’s museum. The Ancient Egyptian exhibit it belonged to wouldn’t open for another month or so, anyhow.

It’s mere presence had kept him up the previous night. He’d dealt with spirits before, but the sensation of the Ring was so much stronger that he was almost disinclined to believe it. During the session, he’d had it hidden on his lap, waiting for the moment of reveal, and become aware of a heartbeat throbbing within the cool metal. His own body heat seemed to do little to dispel its eternal chill.

_Maybe it’s a bit more cursed than I anticipated..._

He only hoped he hadn’t lost his soul to it, just now.

Ryou blinked. It was _hot_, and his fingers curled into gritty sand as he flexed them. He looked up from the barren ground and saw, several yards ahead, _ruins_.

The stones had been worn away by harsh desert winds, leaving many buildings half-tumbled and the rest standing precariously on undermined foundations. It looked as though it had been abandoned for centuries, if not millennia—calling to mind the pictures he had seen at the museum, Ryou thought they were lucky to be intact at all. The dryness of the environment must’ve helped, he thought absently, and then pushed himself upright.

His clothing shifted strangely, and he looked down; felt his eyes widen. His jeans and were gone, replaced by the long white robes of his White Mage. He looked over; saw his character’s staff—_his_ staff—lying beside him.

“Oh dear...”

Getting up was a slight struggle against the shifting sands, and Ryou staggered. Once up, he stooped to pick up the staff, examining the lovely craftsmanship. He’d slaved over each detail when designing it, but the littlest things—like the pattern etched into the crescent moon, at its top—had been impossible to carve into the tiny figurine. Yet they were present now. Ryou ran his thumb along them, remembering the night he had sketched them.

_I don’t even... remember them this clearly... That was so long ago... and yet... here they are... Could this really be a hallucination?_

Ryou shook his head lightly; glanced up at the sun, a blazing deity in the ancient desert sky. He walked—tentatively, at first, then more confidently—toward the ruins, taking comfort in the solidness of the staff in his hand. When he reached the threshold of the first building, a strangely cold shiver ran through him. He’d been in the presence of spirits before, and recognized the feeling, but this was a far stronger sensation—so much so that he doubted it could have that same cause. He reached out; touched the rough stone with his fingertips and felt the stored warmth of the sun. But he also felt a gentle pulse, like the beating of a living heart, and pulled his hand away when it became too uncomfortable.

“... Hello?”

A faint howling answered his words, like the sound of wind whistling through a cave. Yet Ryou saw no structures able to produce that type of sound, and wasn't inclined to pass it off as such regardless. He took several more steps, then looked sharply up at an unknown trigger.

Far down one empty, dust-filled street, a figure stood watching. He was such a distance away that Ryou couldn’t make out his features, but the red robe that billowed out behind him lent a sense of grandeur to his visage. He looked of the desert, and as lonely as the ghosts that Ryou could feel swirling about.

Ryou raised his hand; the rogue did not respond.

... ... ...

It seemed to Ryou that he merely blinked—one moment, the desert rogue; the next, his own dining-room table top, the Monster World game spread out across it and the artifact, not the mage’s staff, grasped lightly in his hand.

“Ryou!” Yugi’s voice—Yugi was beside him; had a hand on his shoulder. Ryou turned; blinked up at his worried friend and all the others clustered around him.

“I...” He sat slightly up; unconsciously grasped the Ring tighter as he pushed himself up. “I’m sorry...”

“Man, what happened?!” Jounochi demanded, and Yugi’s grip tightened on Ryou’s shoulder.

Ryou shook his head slowly, recalling the desertscape he’d glimpsed. ‘Could that really... have been...?’

“Have you been sleeping?” Yugi asked. “Remembering to eat?”

Ryou nodded. While his friend’s concerns weren’t baseless, he’d been consciously doing better in such areas. “Yes... I think it was...” His grip tightened around the artifact, and he said, “I think I just had a vision of some kind...”

Yugi’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reply. Anzu ran to fetch a glass of water; Jounochi and Honda fretted. Ryou felt Yugi’s eyes stay on him, examining him for any sign of deception. Yet Ryou didn’t know how to better explain, nor could he have made anything up at that point. So he gazed back at Yugi with plaintive eyes, begging his friend to understand.

Somehow, he thought, Yugi did; his friend gave the tiniest of nods, and Ryou’s eyes bled relief.

... ... ...

Thief King Bakura had grown practiced at stillness and contemplation over the past three millennia. During his life, he’d had little time or patience for such things, but now restlessness carried with it the very real risk of madness. He paced often, but rarely in agitation; at times, he rested for days without moving, and wasn’t even plagued with the stiffness that might settle in living joints after such a time. It was an attitude that served him well.

When the white-robbed magician appeared, however, Bakura realized that three millennia may also have dulled his instincts, for he froze. Unable to move, he stared at the boy, and continued to stare after the magician had winked out of existence by some mysterious heka. And then Bakura _continued_ to stand, paralyzed, transfixed. His thoughts moved swiftly, but in no definite direction. He reached no conclusion, and he took no action.

He might’ve been tempted to pass the boy off as a hallucination if not for the wailing of the ghosts that kept him eternal company. They, too, had seen the white-robed magician. More than that, they had detected a familiar heka in him—the power of a Millennium Item—and they shrieked this softly to Bakura. Someone had entered Kul Elna for the first time in three millennia, and it seemed he possessed one of the Millennium Items.

_A magician... surely a powerful one, at that..._ Bakura felt his limbs quiver with a forgotten sense of thrill. _A visitor..._

A wail rose from his surroundings, and Bakura raised his head—broke his stillness. He straightened, listening to the familiar lament and contemplating the white magician.

_If he truly holds a Millennium Item... he’ll be drawn back to this place._ The King of Thieves smiled, although unsure exactly why. _He’ll appear again..._

“Ghosts... we may have a guest soon... Isn’t that exciting?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _phenomenal_ illustration for this chapter comes from [Twelvesoul](https://twelvesoul.tumblr.com/)!! Thank you so much, my dear. <333
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this first chapter, and I'll see you tomorrow~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so maybe this daily-chapter thing will instill some good writerly habits <del>or maybe it'll kill me</del>. 
> 
> Minor content warning for discussions of starvation and chronic hunger, in this chapter. 
> 
> On a different, hopefully interesting note, when I talk geography in this fic (and in YGO fic in general), [I use Deir el-Medina as Kul Elna's location](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/40/b9/f9/40b9f9adbfdca1d63ed8070d0b40bc80.png). Malkata would be the location of the royal palace. Just in case anyone was curious. c:

Thief King Bakura sunk down where he’d stood, lost in inarticulate thought and mumbling to the ghosts that wreathed around him. Whether or not he was actually dead—and he suspected he was—he sometimes felt numb and lifeless. It took a low wail, rising from the south, to make him raise his head and return to himself. He gave a soft, derisive laugh; a crooked little smirk. 

“By the gods...” he murmured, rising from his crouch and dusting himself off, “your dignity’s gone the way of Kul Elna itself, Majesty. In shambles. Ruins.” 

As Bakura walked, his thoughts returned to the mage. The young man had been light-skinned—exotic. _A foreign magician... not one of the Pharaoh’s, then..._ He’d dressed in white, and held an expensive, powerful-looking staff. _High-ranked... wherever he comes from..._

Not just anyone would be able to come by one of the Millennium Items, after all. Bakura touched the hollow at the base of his throat, remembering the weight of the Ring; thinking bitterly of the time it had been in his possession. He missed it dearly, but he also wouldn’t don it again if his very soul depended on it. 

_If the mage has one of the Items... does that mean..._

Bakura reached the southern-most edge of Kul Elna, then turned and gazed up a sandy embankment. The sun would soon set, painting long shadows across the desert. The figure at the crest of the dune didn’t move; didn’t raise its voice again. 

“Hey,” Bakura called, and the figure’s head rose. 

“I...” His voice rasped like dry reeds—brittle and ravaged by drought. “What am I looking for? It’s right... right there...” He raised a thin hand; stretched it toward the southwest horizon. “Do you remember...?” 

Bakura nodded, although the other hadn’t turned. “I remember.” 

“Tell me.” The figure’s voice broke, and his hand dropped. He lowered his head. “What’s... beyond this ridge...? What can’t I...? Tell me...!” And again he wailed, though softer this time. 

Bakura scoffed. “Trying to give me orders, even now. That’s the Pharaoh for you.” 

“Tell me, Bakura...” Pharaoh Atem moaned, although he still didn’t turn. 

Bakura’s lip curled, but he didn’t answer. He knew what was beyond the ridge, of course—nothing. But what _used_ to be there, just visible from the edge of the thieves' village on a clear day, had been the royal palace. Some days, Atem remembered it had been there; others, he was unsure why he stared wistfully past the border of their shared prison. 

_This mage... and his connection to the Millennium Items... there might be a way out of here yet._ Bakura didn’t allow the wayward thought to take root; it was unlikely at best, and it might destroy him if he dared to hope for such a thing in vain. 

For all he knew, the mage might not even appear again. 

“We’re dead, Pharaoh. What does it matter what’s over that ridge?” 

“It was important...” Atem mumbled, his voice thick. He hid his face in his knees, which were tucked up to his chest. 

Bakura scoffed; nearly grinned, but fell a bit short. “Paradise is on the other side of that ridge. But we’ll never reach it, Lord Horus. We'll be staying right here."

... ... ... 

The knock at his door didn’t surprise Ryou—he was grateful for it, in fact, although he wished Yugi could have texted.

“I brought dinner,” Yugi said, and Ryou felt himself smile. Of course—he had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to cook, and his friend had anticipated that. 

When they’d eaten, they sat silently at the kitchen table, the artifact between them. The warm, friendly atmosphere of the campaign still hung in the air, echoes left from earlier in the day. 

“You think... it had something to do with this?” Yugi asked finally, turning the artifact over with one hand. 

Ryou nodded. “Absolutely. It was like...” He took a moment to search for the words, and then described it as accurately as he could—the ruins, the ghosts, the desert rogue who’d stood watching him. “It was... so much more cohesive than...” He cleared his throat. “It wasn’t a dream. At least, not like any I’ve had before. And those were pretty recognizable.” 

Yugi nodded slowly, still looking at the artifact. “I believe you...” he said—unnecessarily, strictly speaking, but still a nice thing to hear. “So? What are you going to do now?” 

Ryou sighed. “I’m not... I’m not sure.” He reached out; drew the artifact towards him. Yugi relinquished it. “I’ll... I mean, it has to go back... Dad doesn’t even know I took it...” 

“That doesn’t tell me _when_ it’s going back, Ryou.” 

Ryou gave him a weak smile; Yugi didn’t waver. “I know. I haven’t decided that.” 

Yugi held for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. He placed his hand over Ryou’s—over the artifact. “Please. Be careful.” 

Ryou’s smile grained a bit of substance. “I will. I promise. Thanks, Yugi.”

... ... ... 

After Yugi left, time became indistinct; difficult to track. Ryou got up to fix himself a cup of cocoa, but then sat back down to consider the artifact at his table.

His cocoa grew cold, but it still tasted sweet. 

In years past, Ryou might’ve sat there through the night, growing delirious with the prolonged wakefulness. But his drink was nothing more caffeinated than cocoa, and he was no longer in that habit, regardless, so at some point he nodded off. In his idle, thoughtful state, sleep snuck up on him, so he slumped where he sat and ended up with his cheek pressed against the cold metal of the artifact. 

When he opened his eyes, the dry desert air stung them. 

Ryou blinked; gazed around the starlit ruins. He stood not on the outskirts this time, but in the middle of a road—where he’d been when he’d returned to his own living room the first time. He glanced down the street where the desert rogue had stood watching him, but saw no one. Again, the mage’s staff rested heavy in his hand, and he glanced down to find himself dressed in white robes. The hem was already growing dusty, although his shoes showed no real sign of wear. 

Ryou tilted his head back to check the sky. _There... it’s Sirius... and Orion..._ Though astrology wasn’t a thing he had much grasp of in practice, he had studied enough to recognize a few of the most identifiable patterns. _I’m on earth, then... some version thereof..._

“What do the stars tell you, Mage?” 

Ryou jumped; turned to see that red-cloaked rogue crouched, leering, atop a nearby house. He couldn’t be certain, but Ryou thought he could detect the presence of spirits in the slight breeze swirling around the man, ruffling his tattered robe and dingy silver hair. He also saw, for the first time, the vicious scar that twisted the man’s right cheek, scarcely leaving the eye intact. 

Ryou considered his response for a moment, and then answered honestly, “They’re familiar to me.” 

“I’m surprised they exist here,” the rogue said, tilting his head up, and then asked, “Familiar how?” without looking back down. 

Again Ryou thought, and eventually pointed upwards. “There’s Osiris, guardian of the dead,” he said, gesturing to what modern people would refer to as Orion, “and near him Isis, his wife. At the North,” he pointed, “Taweret stands fast, imperishable.” 

Ryou held his breath, hoping his admittedly rusty knowledge of the ancient mythos had been convincing. After a moment, the rogue began to chuckle; to Ryou's relief, it wasn’t a hostile or derisive sound. He said, “Pity Thoth isn’t out to give us a bit more light,” and then spat on the rooftop beside where he sat. “Damn the gods.” 

Ryou blinked; felt himself begin to shake, but willed his voice to remain steady. “So if Apophis were to defeat Ra even tonight...?” 

The rogue scoffed. “Good riddance. May their souls rot.” 

Ryou gazed at the man—scarred, openly bitter, uncouth. _A fixated spirit... clearly... and this where he dwells..._

“What bring you here, Mage?” 

“Ryou,” Ryou corrected, impulsively, and then clarified. “My name is Ryou.” 

The man tilted his head, then gave a slight, wry little grin. “And I’m the King of Thieves. So what _brings_ you here, Mage Ryou?” 

Ryou swallowed. There was an edge to the self-proclaimed King of Thieves' voice that made his skin crawl. “I’m... not entirely sure,” he admitted, and one of the thief’s eyebrows arched. “My spirit has been drawn here, for some reason. But, truth be told, I don’t even know where _here_ is.” 

The Thief King blinked, his sharpness dulled for a moment by surprise. Ryou could see the thoughts flickering across his gray eyes, and he shifted from foot to foot where he crouched. 

“This is Kul Elna,” he said finally, and Ryou tilted his head. “It’s my home.” 

“I apologize for the intrusion,” Ryou said sincerely, and bowed. Again, that seemed to surprise the Thief King; unnerve him a bit, even. Ryou could feel the spirits surrounding the Thief King grow more restless. 

“Well,” the man said at last, rather gruffly, “you’re no demon, at least.” 

Though unsure what significance _that_ statement held, Ryou shook his head; gave an uncertain smile. “No. I’m human.” 

“Are you alive?” 

Ryou nodded. “Yes.” 

The Thief King scowled, then looked up at the sky. His gaze scanned the deities that resided there, and then he said, “I’m not. Not anymore. You know that, yeah?” 

Again Ryou nodded. “I’d gathered.” 

The Thief King chuckled. “Not scared?” He bore his teeth. “I might drag you down into the underworld, you know.” 

Ryou shook his head. “I don’t believe that.” 

The Thief King seemed almost disappointed, but didn’t persist. He slithered down from the rooftop, instead, and stalked around Ryou, examining him. Ryou’s fingers drummed against his staff, although he watched the Thief King in turn without cringing. The ancient rogue was small in stature; lean, all bone and stringy muscle and weather-roughened skin. He moved soundlessly, a wraith in the truest sense, and Ryou felt a vaguely predatory vibe from him. 

“Heka’s your craft?” the thief asked, nodding toward the staff. 

Ryou’s fingers curled around the staff unconsciously. _Could I preform spells here, in this form...?_ he wondered, but could realistically only say, “Yes,” in reply. 

“Who do you serve?” the thief asked. “Thought you were a foreigner, from how you look, but you know the stars...” 

_Of course..._ Ryou thought. _Hair and skin this color wouldn’t be a common sight, in this man’s lifetime..._ “I do come from a place very far away, off to the East. I’ve studied, though—the ways of this land.” 

The King of Thieves regraded him thoughtfully, then asked, “Do you serve the pharaoh?” 

Ryou shook his head. “I don’t serve anyone.” 

The Thief King stopped pacing at last; tilted his head back. “Well... the ghosts don’t seem to think you’re lying,” he said, robe ruffled by the specters hovering around him. “They’re pretty good at telling that sort of thing. So what now? What do you plan to do?” 

Ryou swallowed; he had no answer. “Well... What’s your name?” 

The thief blinked. “Name?” 

“Not just ‘King of Thieves,’” Ryou said. “Your name.” 

Something strange flickered in the thief’s gray eyes, and the gave a mock little bow. “... Bakura.” 

“Nice to meet you, Bakura.” Ryou held out a hand, though his other stayed coiled around the staff. 

Bakura regarded it cooly, reminding Ryou of a cautious, feral creature. When Bakura took his hand, Ryou wasn’t surprised—though saddened—by how rough and dry the thief’s skin was. His grip, firm, left Ryou’s own skin tingling.

... ... ... 

The white mage, Ryou, disappeared not long after, leaving Bakura feeling slightly deserted. That was an odd feeling, after years of solitude, but so it was. The King of Thieves conjured an image of the mage in his mind—lush white hair, soft skin, achingly kind eyes. Though it wasn’t in his nature to trust, he found it improbably difficult to be suspicious of the stranger. Ryou didn’t seem the type who’d experienced war or famine. He didn’t seem to be a ruthless creature—cunning, perhaps, but not cutthroat; he’d never needed to become so. The ghosts weren't overly wary of him, either.

Besides all that, it was something _different_ in the wake of stale millennia, and that made the thief’s confined spirit _sing_. In the mage’s absence, conversely, brought about a sudden and corrosive lonesomeness, and Bakura sighed. The ghosts swirling around him were pleasant enough company, but they provided neither conversation nor physical contact. 

The King of Thieves wandered southward, telling himself his path was random and knowing that it was a lie. When he spotted the Pharaoh Atem, sitting on the same ridge he’d been on hours earlier, Bakura reasoned that he might as well make his presence known. 

“Finally turned into a gilded statue, Pharaoh?” 

Atem didn’t reply; mumbled something only half-coherent, his haunted gaze fixed on the horizon. 

Hating his sudden craving for company—convincing himself, instead, that it was a purely charitable thing he was about to do—Bakura bounded up the embankment. He nudged Atem with one foot, “Hey. How long have you been sitting here _this_ time? Get up. Walk around with me. It’ll clear your cobwebbed mind.” 

The Pharaoh turned to look at Bakura, his gaze stricken. He looked exhausted, although sleep was impossible in their state. Bakura drew back a derisive lip. 

“Oh, come off it,” he growled. “You’re not that far gone, Majesty. Too late for that.” 

Atem shook his head slowly, then stumbled to his feet. He looked again into the distance, but turned away and fell into step when Bakura began to walk back into Kul Elna. The Pharaoh’s feet scuffed up dust. 

_The mage..._ Bakura thought to bring it up, and then chided himself. There were many things the Pharaoh didn’t need to know, and that was one of them. Instead, Bakura offered, “You walk more like an old man every day, Majesty. Feeling a bit stiff?” 

Atem summoned up a mild glare. “And I’m surprised you haven’t worn off your feet yet, with your pacing.” 

The Thief King grinned. “I used to cover _miles_ of desert every night. I saw more of your kingdom than you ever did, and all on just my own feet. Bet you miss your palanquin, hmm?” 

Atem scoffed. “I hated that thing. Seto’s the one who insisted on being carried everywhere.” 

“What _do_ you miss, Pharaoh?” 

Atem sighed bitterly. “I miss my bed. I miss _restful sleep_.” 

“Sleep’ll get you killed, out in the open desert. If you’re not careful.” 

“I didn’t have to sleep out in the desert, thank you,” Atem quipped. 

“Oh, of course not. The exalted pharaoh, god in mortal guise? Sleep on the sandy _ground_? Never!” 

“I know what you miss the most.” 

Bakura’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?” 

“Parading around in your stolen finery. Waving it in front of the people it belonged to. Thriving off of other’s sadness and misery as you made off with their livelihoods.” 

Bakura chuckled, shaking his head. “Foolish, foolish Pharaoh... I never stole anyone’s livelihood. I stole from spoiled and indulgent fools like you. Most times what I took wasn’t even _missed_, let alone cried over.” 

“You stole my father’s mummy.” 

“He stole my family’s souls!” 

That was a conversation they’d had many times, and Atem looked away; asked, by way of deflection, “What, then? What do you miss?” 

“I miss delicious food. I miss roast pig and fresh bread and rich beer.” Bakura's smile was more honest, this time—almost dreamy. “Curse it, I even miss _hunger_, because then I’d have the pleasure of _eating_ to satisfy it. I was always hungry. The aching-teeth, hollow kind of hungry. The desperate, _motivated_ kind of hungry. I miss that.” 

Atem’s eyes narrowed; after a moment, he said, “I don’t even remember hunger, now.” 

“You wouldn’t. It wasn’t a way of life, for you.” 

They walked together by well-worn consensus; neither led, and they wandered in random patterns along the streets. To Bakura, they’d always been familiar; to Atem, they had grown so over the millennia. 

For three thousand years, the Thief King and the Pharaoh had existed there. 

_But that mage..._ Though the familiarity would’ve been easy to get lost in, Bakura’s mind kept returning to the white mage, Ryou. _The Millennium Items have untold powers... But if we’re dead, then there’s no going back anyway..._ His eyes shifted over to Atem, who’d regained a bit of vitality as they walked. _I’ll bet you’d love to move on, Pharaoh... like my family never will..._

The scales might hold a worse fate than simply staying in the ruins of Kul Elna. 

_At least here, I can feel them,_ Bakura thought, aware of the spirits sweeping along past him even then. While they weren’t true ghosts, individual souls, they still held the _sense_ of Kul Elna’s old inhabitants. _My family. The echoes of them still exist, here. _I_ still exist, here._ Ha glanced sideways at Atem, eyes narrowing. If they truly were dead, the Pharaoh and he, Bakura suspected that the gods would allow one of them to pass into A’aru and condemn the other to eternal darkness. He felt the old anger rise up—stale, now, but still bitter. 

“Do you think they’re still watching over us?” Atem asked suddenly, and Bakura blinked. He followed Atem’s gaze to see that the clouds had dissipated, letting the stars' cold light bathe the desert. 

“No,” the King of Thieves replied, and curled his lip back in a nasty grin. “They’ve abandoned you. And they never did look out for me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter this time around~

Ryou wasn’t at school the next day. 

Yugi kept stealing glances at his friend’s empty chair; kept wondering where he was and if he was alright. Ryou was replying to his texts, but only with cursory answers—wrapped up in something else, then. 

“Can I come over after school?” Yugi asked, sometime midway through the day. 

“Sure!” was the reply, and Yugi let himself relax a bit. It was probably fine and, if it wasn’t, he’d see after class. 

Ryou’s apartment smelled fresh-baked cookies, when Yugi arrived—a good sign. Ryou himself was camped out at the kitchen table, as was his habit when working dedicatedly on something, laptop open and papers spread out around him and artifact sitting at the table’s center. 

“Ah! Yugi. How was school?” 

Yugi gave a cursory summary—the trouble Jounochi had gotten into, the assignments that had been given, the math test that Ryou had missed—and then asked, “What have you found out? About the Ring?” 

Ryou shook his head. “Not much. I know what era it belongs to, and that it was probably in the possession of a pharaoh until it wound up buried. But I can’t figure out why it was made, or even _which_ pharaoh it belonged to. In fact, after Pharaoh Akhenamkhanen, there’s a gap in the dynastic records. We have a few isolated records of a Pharaoh Seto over a decade later, but there should be something in between. There’s not much on this Seto figure, even, so I don’t think he was in power for long.” 

“In other words, lost history,” Yugi said. “And right in the period our Ring happens to be from.” 

Ryou nodded. “We have a pretty complete record nowadays. Erasing someone’s reign as pharaoh—even if it was a short reign, say, three-to-five years—would have to be done intentionally.” 

“By the successor, maybe?” Yugi asked. “This Seto figure?” 

Ryou hesitated, then said, “Pharaoh Seto was the nephew of Akhenamkhanen, the son of this brother, Akhenaden. It’s likely that this missing pharaoh was Akhenamkhanen’s son, but he met with some untimely end before he could produce an heir.” 

“Could his cousin have sabotaged him? If he knew power would come to him, then?” 

Again Ryou hesitated; chewed his lip. “That... would make sense... except...” 

“Except?” 

“Except this Pharaoh Seto seems like a genuinely sad fellow. There are two visual depictions that we have of him, and both show him in mourners' dress—and the earlier one appears to depict his coronation day.” 

“Sad, maybe...” Yugi said, “but what if it was the previous pharaoh that caused his grief? Then he tried to erase him.” 

Ryou didn’t look convinced; sighed, and scratched at his long white hair. It didn’t look like it had been combed that day. “... The spirit,” he said finally, “calls himself the King of Thieves, and says his name is Bakura. I can’t find any records of a figure matching that description.” 

“You think he might be our missing pharaoh?” 

Again Ryou shook his head. “He acts low-born. Ancient Egypt was a strict caste system, and he really doesn’t act like nobility. Plus, King of _Thieves_.” 

“So how’s it related?” Yugi asked, picking up the Ring. He turned it over in his hands. “And do you think the spirit, this King of Thieves, is dangerous? It sounds like he could be.” 

Ryou sighed; rested his head on folded arms atop the table. “I don’t know... I don’t know! He doesn’t seem hostile, just... lonesome. He was... so sad, but he was trying to hide it. Trying to act like he was untouchable. Couldn’t be troubled. But I think he’s also been there for a long, long time. Whoever he is, I mean.” 

Yugi nodded slowly, then set the artifact gently down. “Just... be careful, okay?” he said, and gave a weak smile. “No portals.” 

Ryou’s hands flew up, waving off the mere suggestion. “No no! O-Of course not!” 

“Good.” Yugi stood; brushed himself off and then took a cookie off the plate. “I’ll make supper, okay?” 

Ryou smiled, a note of profound relief in the expression. “Thanks, Yugi.” 

As Yugi took inventory of Ryou’s kitchen—well-stocked, at least—he remembered a time when his friend might’ve gone days or longer without a proper meal, simply because his executive function tended to collapse when he fixated one something. His friends—only new acquaintances, then—hadn’t known; hadn’t realized; hadn’t been close enough to pry. 

They knew now, and weren't about to let such things happen again.

... ... ... 

When Ryou slept, he returned to the desert ruins; he wasn’t surprised to find the self-proclaimed King of Thieves waiting, although he didn’t know quite what to make of Bakura’s sly grin.

“Welcome back, Mage.” 

Ryou raised a hand in greeting as the thief leaped down from a half-collapsed rooftop. “Good evening!” 

“The gods gave us a cloudy night tonight,” Bakura said, tilting his head back. Indeed, the stars were hidden behind a veil of thin clouds. “Rare. They’re giving us a bit of privacy.” 

“Um...” Ryou began, and Bakura looked back at him, one eyebrow raised. “You said... you were the King of Thieves.” 

“When I lived,” Bakura said. He scuffed the toe of one shoe against the ground, although that was the only sign he gave of any discomfort. 

“I... can’t find any record of you, though,” Ryou said. “In fact, there’s a gap in recorded history around when I believe you were alive.” 

Bakura surprised Ryou by laughing—it was an unexpectedly light sound. “Yeah. That’d make sense...” 

“But why?” Ryou asked. “And how is it that you’re sealed here?” 

“You’re in possession of one of the Millennium Items, right?” Bakura answered question with question, a slight edge to his voice. “You might’ve found this place by accident, but not by coincidence. One of my family heirlooms found its way into your hands. The ghosts that haunt this place can sense it.” 

Ryou swallowed. “I... Millennium Items? Is that...? It’s a ring, a ring with five spiked baubles. Is that one of the Millennium Items?” 

“That’s the Millennium Ring,” Bakura said, his eyes glowing with interest. “That’s not just one of them, that’s the one _I_ carried, when I was alive.” 

Ryou felt himself shiver; flexed his grip on his staff. “The one... you carried...” 

“It’s dangerous. But precious.” Bakura gazed off into the streets of the ghostly town, his expression distant. Ryou suspected he was staring into the far-away past. “Don’t trust it.” 

Ryou blinked. “Trust it?” 

Bakura fixed him with an eerily intense gaze. “That thing...” he began, and then seemed to think again. After a moment, he said, “If it starts talking to you, get rid of it. No matter what it says.” 

Ryou blinked. _If it... starts _talking_...?_ “Okay. But what—?” 

“Don’t worry.” Bakura cut him off; scoffed. “It probably won’t happen, anyway...” 

Ryou shifted; asked, quietly, “Do you know how long you’ve been here...?” 

“About three thousand years, I think,” Bakura replied, to Ryou’s surprise. “Dunno the exact number, though. Right? Somewhere close?” 

Ryou nodded. “Yes... Yes, I think that’s about right. That’s where the gap is.” 

Bakura nodded slowly. “So history forgot us both...” he muttered, and then asked, “What about Seto? Any records of him?” 

Again Ryou was surprised. “Pharaoh Seto? A few! Not many, though... a couple of documents and a statue, that I could find.” 

“Hmm...” Bakura looked surprisingly thoughtful; he crossed his arms, drumming the fingers of one hand against the opposite bicep. “That’s surprisingly... noble of him.” 

“Noble?” Ryou asked. “What do you mean?” 

“Was he a good pharaoh? That dumb, stuck-up fuck. He was just a priest when I knew him, y’know, and not a very good one. Too egotistical. Powerful, though...” 

Ryou let him ramble; wondered about the condition the Thief King’s memories must be in, after three millennia. _Faded, for sure... maybe a bit jumbled, too..._

Bakura seemed to read his mind, his gray eyes flashing. “I remember everything. Some things are clearer, but that’s true of anyone, no matter how old you are.” 

Ryou considered arguing that point, but stopped short—Bakura’s circumstances were hardly common, but his mind didn’t seem to be in especially poor condition. He behaved rationally. _As far as I’ve seen..._ Ryou forced himself to add, since he couldn’t be certain what effect three thousand years would have on a person’s psyche. At the very least, the solitude should, by rights, do strange things to a human mind. 

“Were you very lonely, when you were alive?” 

Bakura blinked, his expression going blank for a moment, and Ryou hurried to explain. 

“I mean, you seem very comfortable here, alone. Most people would be distressed by the lack of social contact, but it doesn’t seem to have effected you, at least not severely enough to be visible on first glance. So then, you’re used to being alone, like me, because at first glance people don’t notice how it effects me, either, but I’m very used to being lonely, too!” 

Bakura’s surprise turned to bewilderment, and suddenly Ryou realized everything he’d said. He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him chilled in the arid desert. 

But Bakura, after a moment, softened. “Yeah. I was real lonely.” 

Ryou felt his heart skip, and all at once the desert rogue—the King of Thieves—wasn’t at all frightening. He was weather-roughened, yes, and scarred, but also deeply sad; forlorn; forsaken. 

Without thinking, Ryou closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Bakura. The thief stiffened, and for a moment it seemed like he’d pull away. He didn’t, though; held deathly still, seeming paralyzed in the arms of the white mage. He didn’t return the embrace, feeling the faint breeze of Kul Elna’s ghosts swirling around them.

... ... ... 

Yugi woke to the uncomfortable feeling of gritty, faintly warm sand against his cheek.

Groaning, he pushed himself upright; felt his pulse quicken as he realized he wasn’t in his own bed, in his own room, in his own home. He sat up sharply, grains of sand scattering from his hair. 

_But where...?!_

Yugi looked around, blinking to adjust to the dim light of the cloudy night. To his left was the ruins of a village—dusty, tumble-down, deserted; to his right, sprawling, untamed sands. His clothing was familiar, but he couldn’t immediately place where he’d seen it before. Picking himself up, he glanced toward the ruins. 

_Ryou... described..._

Yugi felt cool relief tingle through him. _A dream. This is what Ryou described._ He smiled. _I’m dreaming...!_ He looked again at his clothes, and his smile widened as another piece fell into place. _My beast-tamer costume! I’m dressed like my character’s miniature, just like Ryou described!_

A distance, soft wail made Yugi tense up; made him look sharply over. A figure stood on the ridge—not the red-robed rogue that Ryou had claimed to have encountered, clearly. Yugi’s heart jumped. 

_If Ryou didn’t... then I..._

The figure tipped its head back; cried out to the sky. The sound resonated through Yugi’s bones, and he shuddered.


	4. Chapter 4

Yugi arrived at Ryou’s apartment once again after school; found his friend virtually buried in the piles of academic papers and textbooks and laptop and dishes on his table. Yugi kicked the door shut, balancing schoolbooks and a covered dish of baked salmon and vegetables in his arms. 

“Oh! Good morning, Yugi!” Ryou called, his voice a bit breathy but cheerful. “How was your night?” 

Yugi smiled wearily. “It’s four in the afternoon, Ryou.” He set the dish down gingerly atop a stack of notebooks, then deposited the day’s schoolwork beside Ryou’s chair, lest it get mixed in with the other academic materials. “How’s it going? Discovered anything new?” 

Ryou shook his head. “Lots, but nothing especially useful. The erasure of these years is a lot more thorough than I originally thought, so I think it’s safe to say it was intentional. This Pharaoh Seto is a likely perpetrator, although he isn’t trying hard to be remembered, either. Which is an odd behavior, considering your afterlife more or less depended on being remembered by the living, in the context of the time. So I find it hard to believe he erased his predecessor out of spite alone. And if seems more like... there was an element of depression to his own short reign. Or maybe whoever’s responsible for erasing the nameless pharaoh _also_ tried to include Seto, but just wasn’t as thorough, so there are a few traces of him left. But that’s hard to believe, considering exactly _how_ thorough they were with the nameless pharaoh.” 

Yugi let him ramble, then said, “You should come back to school, tomorrow. Everyone misses you.” 

Ryou smiled. “Thanks, Yugi. I just... I need to find out.” He picked up the artifact; held it slightly out. “I was there again, last night. I talked to the King of Thieves again.” 

Yugi felt an uncertain twinge, remembering his own dream the night before. He stared at the object in Ryou’s hand, wondering if he was imagining the strange energy that radiated off it. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in such things, but more that he’d never fancied himself sensitive to them—that was more Ryou’s territory. 

“Couldn’t you ask him?” Yugi asked. “This King of Thieves? Or do you think he’d lie?” 

Ryou hesitated, then shook his head. “He might. But it’s not about that. I just... I don’t want to press too hard. If he wants to share something, he should make that decision. But I don’t think...” Ryou chewed his lip; lowered his voice, and said, “I don’t really think he’s dead.” 

Yugi’s brows arched. “What?” 

Ryou rustled around for a book; found it, and flipped through until he reached the proper page. “It sounds more like he’s been sealed away. There’s evidence of ancient spells that could do something like that. Maybe the illusory world—whenever his soul is sealed—is even inside this ring. He said he was in possession of it at some point, and that I should be wary if it starts talking to me, so—“ 

“If the ring starts talking?!” Yugi cut in. 

Ryou shrugged. “He didn’t... well, exactly explain that one, but... but he was clearly trying to warn me! And I believe he doesn’t mean any harm.” 

“Then why would he be sealed?” Yugi asked. “And how does this tie into your nameless pharaoh?” 

Ryou sighed; looked momentarily downcast. “I... don’t know. I don’t know, but...” 

Yugi breathed slowly out. He slid into the chair beside Ryou and reached out; placed his hand over Ryou’s, on top of the artifact. “I just don’t want to see you get into some type of spiral. I-I mean, even _I_ feel something strange with this thing, and I’m not...” He took a deep breath; considered his next words carefully. “... The first time it happened was during the Monster World session, right?” 

Ryou nodded. “Yeah...” 

“How about we do a quick session? One-on-one. Just a conversation, the white mage and the beast-tamer. Maybe you’ll get some sort of insight, that way.” 

Ryou’s eyes lit up. “You’d do that, Yugi?” 

“Of course.” Yugi felt his pulse quicken a bit, his own dream pulled powerfully into his mind. Although he didn’t doubt it was merely that—a dream—it was lingering in his mind with far more clarity than seemed normal. He could feel the grit of sand; hear the haunted wailing of the figure on the ridge. “It won’t affect the campaign, of course—we’ll just... have a conversation, the beast tamer and the white mage.” 

Ryou jumped up; ran to fetch the miniatures, and called out to see whether or not Yugi wanted tea. When he returned, he shoved a mess of papers off the table without care for how they fell, then set up a small square of Monster World field—a patch of nondescript desert. 

“... Are you sure about this, Yugi?” Ryou asked, his eyes suddenly anxious. “I don’t want you to get more involved than you have to...” 

Yugi forced a nonchalant smile, wondering why his mouth suddenly tasted like the dusty desert. “Of course,” he said, and took a sip of tea. 

Ryou looked relieved; sat down, and then put their miniatures on the table. He picked up the artifact next; hesitated, then placed it beside the two figures. 

“... The white mage and the beast tamer stand together among the endless, searing sands of the desert,” Ryou began, and then picked up the artifact. “The white mage holds out the strange artifact.” 

“The beast tamer places his hand on it,” Yugi said, and did so. Ryou looked a bit surprised, but didn’t object. 

“The white mage asks, ‘Have you ever heard of a place called Kul Elna?’” 

Yugi opened his mouth to reply, but found his voice mysteriously missing. He choked a bit, and then his vision faded with alarming speed. He glimpsed Ryou, already slumped over the field in a tangle of white hair, and then lost consciousness.

... ... ... 

“Bakura. Bakura. Bakura. Bakura. Bakura. Bakura—“ 

“Get the _hell_ away from me!” the King of Thieves spat, lashing out—a swipe that was never meant to connect. “Pathetic palace _brat_!” 

“You’re the one who came storming into my home!” Atem countered, his tone angry but also plaintive—always plaintive, nowadays. 

“Your home?” Bakura snarled. “You want to talk about homes?!” 

“I do!” Atem persisted, following Bakura doggedly down the dusty road—keeping a slight distance, but following. “I _know_ what happened, Bakura, I _lived_ it, but—“ 

“You _lived_ it?!” Bakura rounded on him, lip drawn back. “You didn’t live the destruction of your whole village! You didn’t cower behind some fucking wall while the _pharaoh's_ soldiers slaughtered your family—not just your family, but everyone you’ve ever known! Friends, enemies, peers, neighbors, elders, babies, _everyone_! Dead and smelted into _sacred_ metal for those gods-forsaken Millennium Items!” 

Atem drew back, uncertain. His leg buckled as he took a backwards step, and he faltered. 

“None of that gave you the _right_ to destroy my home,” he said at last, softly. “To disturb and loot my father’s tomb. To declare war on the peace that so much was sacrificed to obtain.” 

“The peace that was built on top of my family’s graves, you mean?!” Bakura snarled. “Go rot! The world should’ve burned, just like Kul Elna!” 

“My father believed in what he was doing!” Atem cried. “In the end, he died for that! Isn’t that enough?” 

“You never even considered that your godly father could be mistaken,” Bakura spat. “You act like you _understand_, but never, not in three thousand years, have you really considered that your father was just plain, _fucking_ wrong!” 

“... I have,” Atem muttered, but Bakura had turned with a swish of red robes; stalked away, deeper into Kul Elna. Atem sunk slowly down, unsteady, and cradled his head in his hands. _I have... there was... once..._

Atem thought to cry out, to pursue Bakura and argue his point, but the Thief King had gone. As in life, he was more than capable of vanishing as if dissolved into the desert breeze itself. Even in the confines of the village, Atem knew that searching was useless if Bakura didn’t want to be found. 

Atem craned his neck back; squinted up at the blinding blue until his eyes burned. His breath hitched. 

“Father... Father...!” he moaned, and then lowered his head again. _We were wrong, Father..._

“Um...” 

Atem raised his head; blinked, startled by the unfamiliar presence. A young man stood before him, small in stature; clad in modest blue and gold armor decorated with runes—carved by an amateur hand, judging from their slight unevenness. His hair was styled much like Atem’s own, spiked and tri-colored, but without the benefit of a crown or other decoration. He looked troubled—no, not quite troubled, but _concerned_. 

“Are you... alright?” 

Atem scrambled to his feet; stumbled, but managed it. He stared; felt dampness on his cheeks, but didn’t dare wipe at them for fear of drawing attention to the tears. 

“Are you alright?” the boy asked again, and took a step forward. His hand was extended, a cautiously peaceful gesture. 

Atem felt his heart flutter; thought of the dignity that a pharaoh should possess in all circumstances, even the most unexpected of them. He held his head high; nodded stiffly and brushed at his robes. “I... am.” It was a foolish thing to say, and Atem chastised himself. But the stranger looked relieved, if not entirely convinced. 

“I’m glad.” The stranger took another step forward, and said, “My name is Yugi. What’s yours?” 

_My... name..._ Atem fumbled for a moment—it had been so long since he’d been asked the simple question. But he managed, at last, “Atem. Pharaoh Atem.” 

The strange boy—Yugi, then—seemed startled. “Pharaoh...” he repeated, and then bowed slightly. “Pharaoh Atem. An honor to meet you.” 

“Th-The honor is mine!” Atem hurried to say, and he meant it. Besides the fact that _anyone but Bakura_ seemed like an incarnate god of mercy, this young man was handsome and appeared kind—Atem’s heart felt lighter merely gazing upon him. “Where do you come from, if I may ask?” 

Yugi looked suddenly unsure, and blurted out, “Japan!” which Atem didn’t understand. “I-I mean... far away. To the...” he though for a moment, “to the east of here. And... and not this time.” 

“I am not of this time, either,” Atem said, seeking to put the stranger at ease. “At least, that’s what I assume. I’ve been here, in this place, for a long time.” Yugi relaxed a bit, and Atem dared to venture, “Its never... happened before, that someone has... appeared, like you. How is it...?” 

Yugi shook his head. “I’m not sure. My friend—he’s a mage. There’s an artifact, and...” Yugi trailed off, clearly unsure of how much he should say. 

Atem held up his hands. “If you need to keep the secrets of friends, or of lords, please do. I’m merely curious.” 

Yugi nodded, then looked around. “My friend, the mage... have you seen him around? We didn’t... shouldn’t have been separated, I don’t think. Not that I understand at all how this is possible, not like he does.” 

“If your friend is a mage, what is your craft?” Atem asked hurriedly, reluctant to let the stranger go off to search for his friend. _It’s been... so long...!_

“Beast tamer,” Yugi replied, seeming mildly amused at the fact. 

“Really? Beasts like lions? I’ve seen my father invite lion tamers to entertain the court.” 

Yugi shook his head. “Not that kind of beast tamer, no.” He looked quizzically down at his hand for a moment, seeming unsure, and then held it out. “C’mon out, Pokii!” 

A fanciful little round creature poofed into being, hopping cheerfully around Yugi. The beast tamer seemed genuinely surprised, then laughed and turned to Atem. 

“See? Like that. Pokii was the first beast I ever tamed, and he’s my most faithful companion.” 

Atem gazed in wonder at the summon, then exclaimed, “Incredible!” 

“Come out, Pao,” Yugi said, and the small dragon appeared, as well. It, unlike Pokii, crept like a cat over to Atem and sniffed at his sandal-clad feet. 

“May I?” Atem asked, and Yugi nodded. The Pharaoh crouched down; let the dragon sniff his hand, and then laughed delightedly when Pao fluttered up onto his shoulder. “He’s wonderful!” 

Yugi nodded. “They’re both very valuable companions of mine.” He rested a hand on Pokii’s head, feeling the little creature press up into his touch. Pao, too, nudged against Atem’s temple affectionately. “Would you walk with me? While I look for my friend.” 

“Of course...!” Atem stood; Pao, though swaying slightly, kept its seat on his shoulder. Atem hurried to the young man’s side, and Yugi smiled bemusedly at him. “What is it like, in the land you come from? Japan, was it?” 

“Yeah... It's crowded,” Yugi replied, watching Pokii keep pace beside him as he walked. “There are so many people. But that’s because it’s wonderful, full of fun things to do and beautiful places to see. The opportunities are limitless! It’s... freezing cold, in the winter, but in spring the trees all bloom pink!” 

“How many days’ travel is it from here?” 

Yugi’s smile turned a bit pained. “Not days. Maybe half a year, on foot? And there would be water to cross, besides. I’m not sure how long that would take.” 

“Water like the Nile?” 

“Much bigger. Deeper, too. Not sure the current would be as strong, though...” 

Atem’s eyes grew in astonishment. “More water than the Nile...?” 

Yugi smiled—again, slightly pained. “Far more.” He spared attention from Atem and the two familiars to peer around, clearly looking for his friend. Atem caught himself hoping that they couldn’t find the mage, at least for a short time. “What is _this_ place called?” 

“Kul Elna,” Atem replied, without hesitation. Bakura’s secrets weren’t his to keep. He reached up and scratched behind Pao’s ear; the little dragon leaned into his hand. “A village of thieves. The inhabitants once worked for the pharaoh’s line, building tombs, but eventually turned into grave robbers.” 

Yugi looked thoughtful. “Shame.” 

Atem nodded. “They chose this path, though.” Even to his own ears he didn’t sound sure, and Yugi gave him a sideways glance. 

“Did it happen when you were pharaoh?” 

“During my father’s predecessor’s reign.” 

“What caused them to change? To turn against that pharaoh?” 

Atem fidgeted—he didn’t _know_ that answer. He knew what Bakura had told him, but he found that explanation hard to swallow. Besides that, he’d caught Bakura distorting history before, and for no better reason than to amuse himself or to confuse Atem. So all he said was, “I never heard the story. My father preferred not to speak of this village.” It wasn’t a lie, not technically. 

Yugi nodded, then changed the subject. “What was it like? Being pharaoh?” 

Atem felt himself begin to smile, and he _heard_ the pleasure in his own voice, even if he didn’t quite feel it, not exactly. “It was wonderful! My father, he taught me all about our responsibilities, as embodiments of the gods, to the people. To Egypt we _are_ gods. And to effect positive change in their lives, _that_ is the greatest honor and the gravest duty of a pharaoh. That’s what my father taught me,” he said again—credit where it was due. “It wasn’t easy, but the love of the people and the loyalty of the court sustain a pharaoh, if he’s worthy of it.” 

“It does sound... fulfilling,” Yugi said, after a moment. He looked down, his eyes on Pokii. “How long were you pharaoh?” 

“Just shy of two years,” Atem replied. 

“...” Yugi slowed to peer down an alleyway, then asked, without turning, “So why are you here? Now?” 

Atem shrugged, feeling Pao fidget at the motion. “We were fighting a demon god—Zorc Necrophades. We, my magicians and I. I don’t know what happened, in the end. I was low on ba, and something struck me from behind. I woke up here. But I’m sure that Seto finished the job. He wouldn’t lose, even once I’d fallen. Since the world hasn’t ended, I’m certain that Zorc was vanquished.” 

“Seto?” 

“My cousin. He likely succeeded me. Did he? Are there records, in the time you come from?” 

Yugi hesitated, then said, “Yes... but they’re very fragmented. We don’t know much.” 

Atem sighed, momentarily disappointed. “They deserve to be remembered... my noble father, and brave Seto... loyal Mahad and Mana... Siamun... and Isis, and Shada, and Karim...” 

Yugi let him reminisce, still searching for his lost companion. _A mage..._ Atem thought, when he’d dragged himself free of the memories. _If we are indeed sealed... if we aren’t truly dead... If the seal malleable enough to let a mage and his friend _in_, then..._

Atem felt a sudden wave of helplessness; of such potent _grief_ that it nearly brought him to his knees. He choked softly, and Yugi turned. 

“Pharaoh?” 

Then the boy, Yugi, vanished—he and his creatures disappeared, as though they were merely the mirage of a mad man lost in the unforgiving desert. Atem crumpled; buried his face in his hands and wept, for hope was far more agonizing than the resignation he’d wallowed in for three millennia.

... ... ... 

Yugi woke with a start, slumped against Ryou’s dining table, tears streaming down his face. Ryou, too, was just coming too, slowly pushing up off the table. 

“Oi! Yugi! Ryou! You two alive in there?!” came Jounochi’s voice, and there was a pounding at the door. 

Yugi palmed at one eye crossly. _It broke the spell... whatever that _was_..._

“Ah!” Ryou exclaimed, leaning in. “Yugi! What happened? You aren’t hurt, are you?” 

Yugi shook his head, although uncertain why the tears _were_ still flowing. “No, I... Ryou, I... met your missing pharaoh.” 

Ryou gaped. “You...?!” 

Yugi nodded. “His name is Atem.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLESS AND THANK YOU for all the comments! ;w; If this chapter wasn't so frantically _oh gods I need to post today's chapter before sleep_ I'd attempt replies, but... such is life. x'D 
> 
> Regardless, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!~

Bakura, though disappointed when Ryou vanished without warning, was confident that the mage would return. He took solace in that. 

They had spoken with a sense of familiarity, and Ryou had asked about sealing spells. Bakura’s heart had leaped, but he’d admitted that, unfortunately, he’d practiced little heka in his time. As substitute, he’d explained the system of ba and ka, which had kept Ryou wide-eyed and riveted. Bakura had taken great pleasure from the glow of wonder that radiated off of him. 

“I haven’t been able to summon Diabound since I wound up here,” Bakura had said, as he finished sketching a crude rendering of his ka in the sand, “but I can feel that he’s still there.” 

“He must be magnificent...” Ryou had breathed, and Bakura grinned. 

“He is.” 

Now Bakura sat cross-legged, the ancient lonesomeness torn open and left raw by Ryou’s sudden departure. The ghosts swirled around him—affectionate, seeming to sense his melancholy. His head rested heavily in one palm, and he heaved a sigh as he scratched flowing white hair into the dust. 

“Bakura! Bakura!” 

The King of Thieves swept out a hasty hand, banishing the likenesses of Ryou and Diabound from the sand. An instant later Atem came bounding over one of the rooftops, far more spry than he’d been in at least a thousand years. 

Bakura didn’t bother to stand. “What’s got you all riled up?” 

“There was another person here, Bakura!” 

Bakura’s whole body chilled, but there was no accusation to Atem’s tone or expression. In fact, he seemed elated. 

“He’s a beast tamer from a distant land, a year’s journey from here!” Atem continued. “He says his friend is a mage—a mage who’s been able to come here, somehow!” 

Bakura’s tension eased, but he got slowly to his feet. _Not Ryou, then, but..._ “A beast tamer, you say?” 

Atem nodded. “He’s small, but powerful—strong! But kind, also, and curious. Bakura, he’s a gift sent by the gods! And his friend, too, if it’s true!” 

Bakura nodded slowly. _But why are you... telling _me_...?_ Bewildered, feeling slightly cornered—and bitter about the fact—he said, “The mage found me. We spoke.” 

Atem’s smile _glowed_, and Bakura repressed a sneer. “Bakura, isn’t it wonderful?” 

“Marvelous,” the Thief King muttered. Atem didn’t seem to notice his blatant reservations. 

“The mage—what was he like?” Atem asked. “If he was anywhere near as wonderful as my Yugi, he must be something to behold! And a mage, powerful enough to reach us, wherever we are... Did he seem inclined to help us? Do you think he can be persuaded?” 

Bakura couldn’t help sneering, then, and spat, “Come off it. We can’t leave this place. And even we could, we’re _dead_—long dead. Are you hoping he’ll open a pathway for you to the Field of Reeds? Hoping you'll reunite with your exalted father and enjoy the prosperous afterlife you were promised? Ryou’s no herald of the gods—he can’t help you on their behalf.” 

Atem’s brightness didn’t falter. “But what if we _aren't_, Bakura? What if we’re merely sealed away? What if—?” 

Bakura bore his teeth; grabbed Atem’s wrist and shook it, roughly. The Pharaoh whined faintly. “I watched my own body crumble!” Bakura snarled, and tightened his grip. “I turned to sand. _That's_ the last thing I ever saw, that terrifying sight, and I _wailed_ for help, and I _died_. I don’t know what happened to you, Pharaoh, but I do know that you’re as dead as me. And that’s the _only_ mercy that the gods have ever shown me.” 

Bakura threw down Atem’s wrist; Atem snatched it away, cradling his hand to his chest and glaring at Bakura. But he didn’t argue, and Bakura was grateful for that. 

He glanced down at his hands; felt them start to disintegrate, and clenched them into fists to dispel the phantom sensation.

... ... ... 

Yugi spent the night at Ryou’s apartment.

After they’d assured Jounochi that all was well—Yugi sounding, even to his own ears, a bit too much like Ryou for comfort—they’d ordered pizza and hunkered down, the little square of Monster World field still between them. 

“So Atem is our missing pharaoh, and Seto, his cousin, was his direct successor...” Ryou murmured, jotting down notes. “And he only ruled for two years...” 

“He seemed so young...” Yugi murmured, his gaze distant. He rested his chin on one hand. “The idealism was still so... _organic_. Like, he clearly was pharaoh, for a while, and probably not a bad one, but he still believed all of the really story-book things his dad had told him about what being pharaoh was all about. He brought up his dad a lot...” 

“And then what he said about Kul Elna...” Ryou’s tone had an edge to it; he hadn’t taken entirely kindly to Atem’s dismissal of the “village of thieves,” and even less so to his unwillingness to examine _why_ the tomb builders had turned against their pharaoh. “Bakura calls himself the King of Thieves, so it’s fairly certain that that was his home.” 

Yugi saw his point, but was also reluctant to assign malice to Atem’s attitude. “Do you think they’re aware of each other, now? Wherever they are? Like, they can interact? Talk?” 

“Absolutely,” Ryou said. 

“Why didn’t either of them mention the other, then?” 

Ryou didn’t reply, but the anxiety of the question and it’s obvious answers thickened the air. 

“I don’t think they’re dead,” Ryou said at last, absently scrawling lines across his notepad. “You said Atem spoke of a battle—the pharaoh and his magicians against a demon god, Zorc-something-or-other. The standard way to combat such forces, back then, were sealing spells. And since Atem referenced magicians, they were likely trying to seal the demon. It’s not much of a stretch to think that Atem and Bakura were both caught up in a seal.” 

“How do you think Bakura factored in this battle?” Yugi asked abruptly. “He must’ve been there, to get caught in the seal. But Atem didn’t reference him.” 

Ryou only shook his head. “And Bakura’s never spoken of anything like that, to me. I couldn’t say.” 

Yugi’s eyes narrowed, mildly disapproving, but he didn’t press. The obvious assumption wasn’t necessarily the correct one, anyway. “So you want to try to get them out.” 

“Yeah...” Ryou’s eyes turned distant, and he toyed with his white mage’s miniature. “I mean... trapped like that... unable to move on or even to sleep... no one deserves that, do they?”

... ... ... 

Atem gazed up at the sky, praying silently for some insight from the gods. He’d long ago come to terms with the fact that the stars he could see weren’t the _real_ stars, or by extension the real gods, but the habit still brought him comfort. His father had often taken him out onto the palace balconies and taught him about the stars.

_This can’t... truly be death, can it?_

Of course he’d heard Bakura say similar things like that before—no matter how much time they spent alone, they’d also spent far more time together than most people could imagine. Even Bakura had difficulty keeping his guards up after so long, and Atem had occasionally caught him staring in abject horror at his hands, his mind replaying his wretched last moments. 

Atem had once admitted—and deeply regretted admitting, if the truth was told—that he hadn’t even noticed Bakura turning to sand during the battle. He’d seen it begin, heard Bakura screaming, but then... 

He hadn’t seen Bakura for months, after that conversation, and years had passed before they were again on speaking terms. 

_What if he really is..?_ Atem thought, and shuddered. _Even if I’m not... but then... if he’s truly dead..._

Atem remembered the battle with Zorc fairly clearly—he’d run over it in his head so many times that it had become indelible. He remembered being thrown into doubt by the revelation that Bakura’s home had been massacred in the name of his father’s quest for peace. He remembered doubting, even, that he should continue to fight. 

_Peace cannot be built on such bloodshed...!_

But his father hadn’t known—Mahad had pointed that out. Mahad had appeared beside Atem, in his moment of doubt, and reaffirmed his convictions. Admittedly, though, the battle had been over before he’d been able to act on those convictions. He hoped he’d at least thanked Mahad—he couldn’t quite draw to mind the final words they’d shared, and that stung him. 

_My father wasn’t to blame... he didn’t even _know_...! And when he found out, when noble Mahad confronted him..._ Atem cradled his head between his knees, momentarily overcome with millenniums-old grief. _My poor father... driven to his death by that guilt..._

So it had been Akhenaden, then, who was mainly responsible—but Akhenaden hadn’t lasted any longer than Bakura, in the final battle against Zorc. The demon had openly dismissed both of them as pawns, letting Bakura dissolve and igniting Akhenaden in a ghastly pillar of flame. 

_“Too cowardly to even make the contract with me yourself!”_ had been one of Zorc’s final jeers for Akhenaden. Atem thanked every god in existence that Akhenaden hadn’t also wound up sealed in Kul Elna—that might’ve been truly unbearable. 

Atem sighed; ran his nails briskly through his hair. His thoughts were wandering. _Am I dead?—that’s the question. Is Bakura dead, for that matter? It seems like what’s true for one must be true for the other..._

Bakura had turned to sand; Atem had no such traumatic memories. He had been fixated on Zorc—not fully released, but able to project into the physical world, at that point—and something had struck him from behind. _Heka of some sort, undoubtedly..._ He’d been weakened, and he’d passed out from the shock and pain of the blow. Then he’d woken in Kul Elna, and hadn’t slept since. 

_So did it kill me... or was that heka a sealing spell? That’s the question..._

Again Atem sighed, wishing he could speak to Mahad, even just briefly. _Always so calm and wise... and unshakable. The best support a pharaoh could wish for. The gods were so kind when they gave my father, and then to me, dear Mahad. _

_I hope you’re living happily in the Fields of Reeds. And I hope, my friend, I might see you again one day._

... ... ... 

Zorc Necrophades dwelt in the desert.

The Thief King sat brooding at one end of Kul Elna, staring off toward the horizon. Closer to the center of the village, Atem had lit a fire; sat huddled beside it, his head down. The demon watched this through the human eyes he possessed, unbothered by the brutal desert winds that tore at his flesh. 

“My Lord... Pharaoh...” 

The words left human lips, and a clawless hands clenched with emotion. He couldn’t enter Kul Elna, where the spirits of the Pharaoh and the Thief King dwelt, but he could watch—and watch he did. As Atem had gazed at the horizon for three thousand years, the demon and his vessel had stared endlessly into the village. 

The demon knew that something had been distorting the seal—that some outsider had entered Kul Elna. And the demon smiled. The expression, a warped bearing of teeth, didn’t suit his noble features. 

“My Pharaoh... Lord Atem... you haven’t forgotten about me, have you?”


	6. Chapter 6

Yugi took the walk home slowly, using it as an opportunity to gather his thoughts. The white noise of Japan’s streets was nothing like the silence of that ancient desert village, and Yugi wondered which was more conducive to deep thought. Either, he decided, could drive a person mad. 

When Yugi curled up in his bed, flipping off all the lights and pulling the blanket up over his head, the tension left him. Exhaustion settled in, pressing him deep into his mattress, and he hoped he wouldn’t dream. 

“Yugi!” 

Yugi felt disappointment, sharp and stinging, when he heard the voice. But he blinked open his eyes; smiled at the young Pharaoh Atem, who was trotting toward him. Yugi raised a hand. 

“Hello, Pharaoh.” He stifled a yawn, and was startled when Atem took his hands and held them tightly. 

“You’ve come back!” 

Yugi nodded. “Yes...” He wanted to add that it hadn’t been voluntary—that he’d been looking forward to a night of undisturbed sleep. But he couldn’t suffer disappointing the bright-eyed man before him, and so smiled tiredly. “I came back.” 

“Thank the gods...!” Atem breathed, and then asked, “The gods are still venerated in your time, of course?” 

Yugi wished he could tag out—Ryou knew far more about Egyptian mythology. “By some. Many different gods are worshiped by all kinds of people, in my time.” Since the Egyptians had been staunchly polytheistic, Yugi hoped that wouldn’t sound too strange. 

Atem, indeed, didn’t seem thrown. “As Pharaoh, I share a special connection with Osiris, and with his son, Horus. My cousin Seto was named for Lord Set. Do you have any particular devotion, Yugi?” 

Yugi shook his head, aware that his hands were still being held. “I’m... no, no, not particularly.” 

“What about your friend, the mage?” 

“I don’t think so,” Yugi said, and chuckled. “Why do you ask so many questions?” 

“I want to know!” Atem exclaimed. “I want to learn about you, Yugi, and about this foreign place you hail from.” 

“I suppose this place must get boring after three thousand years.” 

Atem shook his head. “It’s not just that. You fascinate me, Yugi.” 

Yugi felt his face grow warm; he gently disentangled his fingers from Atem’s, and then ran one hand through his hair. 

“My father and my old teacher, Mahad, were the only folks in the palace who didn’t grow irritated when I asked such questions,” Atem continued, seeming not to notice Yugi’s fidgeting. “And Mana, but she knew about as much as I did—she was Mahad’s apprentice. And since father was often busy, Mahad taught me about many things—about history and heka, and reading and writing...” 

“Tell me about him,” Yugi prompted, seizing upon the respite from the Pharaoh’s questions. 

Atem hardly needed the nudge. “Mahad was a High Priest of the court. He served my father, and then me as well. I expect he served Seto, after. He was the wisest of my magicians, and nothing—not my endless questions, or Mana’s mischief—could ruffle him. He was powerful, too. He held the Millennium Ring, and when he fought the mightiest of our enemies, the King of Thieves, he made it back alive. And he stood beside me during the final battle with Zorc. I’m sure he was instrumental in the defeat of the demon, since the world survived.” 

_The mightiest of our enemies... the King of Thieves..._ Yugi thought, but all he said was, “He sounds incredible.” 

“He was,” Atem said, and gave a heavy sigh. “He’s surely enjoying the best afterlife, in the company of my honored father.” 

Yugi nodded, although his attention had been drawn by something over Atem’s shoulder: the silhouette of a man, his robes billowing around him despite the lack of a breeze. _That... must be..._ Yugi thought, but the thief vanished before Yugi could contemplate him further. 

“Yugi?” 

Yugi started; gave himself a light shake. “Right... yes, sorry.” 

“That’s alright,” Atem said, and then tilted his head. “Is your friend here, as well?” 

“I don’t know,” Yugi admitted. “We weren’t even together, this time... I’m not sure how I even got here.” 

Atem seemed to glow despite the gloom of nighttime. “It’s the will of the gods.” 

Yugi smiled nervously. “Maybe.” 

Atem brightened suddenly; exclaimed, “Would you like to play a game?” 

Yugi blinked. “A game?” 

“It’s been _centuries_ since Bakura’s played with me!” Atem continued, and didn’t seem to realize his slip—his casual mention of his ‘mightiest enemy’. “Do you know senet? Or mehen? I could teach you!” 

“S-Sure...!” Yugi replied, and Atem took his hand; led him through Kul Elna’s winding streets. Yugi could feel the movement of spirits all around them, and shivered. 

“Games are a wonderful pastime,” Atem said, as they walked. “Do you play any, in the place where you come from?” 

“A card game—Duel Monsters, we call it.” 

“I’ll bet you’re very skilled.” 

Yugi wanted to brush that off, for Atem had no reason to make such an assertion, but that felt dishonest considering he _was_ the current regional champion. So he simply remained quiet. 

“Bakura was no good at senet, not at first, but our skill had grown fairly even by time he stopped agreeing to play,” Atem continued. “He’s always been a bit better than me at mehen, though. I suppose it was more of a commoner’s game to begin with, so he’d have practice. Within the court, we would duel using our spirit monsters, our ka.” 

_Duel..._ Yugi thought, and then shook his head. _Couldn’t be..._

“Mahad was one of our best. Mana had only just summoned her ka for the first time, the last time I saw her. But I’m sure she went on to be a powerful sorcerer in her own right.” Atem ducked into a small, tumbledown house; motioned to the pile of games in the corner, and then dropped Yugi’s hand. “Senet, then?” 

“You will have to teach me...” 

“That’s alright!” Atem sat down with a swish of his robes, legs folded beneath him. He seemed even smaller, then, and Yugi decided he couldn’t possibly be older than fifteen or sixteen. “Sit, sit!” 

Yugi obeyed, sitting down cross legged in front of Atem. The Pharaoh set up the board; eagerly explained the mechanics of the game. It reminded Yugi a lot of chess, which Kaiba had once tried—with debatable success—to teach him. 

“I’ll take the first turn,” Atem said, once he’d explained. He moved a piece, and then waited, nearly weeping anticipation, for Yugi. 

Yugi felt a stab of sympathy, so sharp as to border on pity. Yet there was also admiration. _Three thousand years... and before that, the gilded life of a pharaoh... and this simple game can bring you such joy._

Yugi took his turn, and Atem exclaimed, “You do learn quickly!” 

“You can’t tell that from just one move,” Yugi said, bemused, but Atem shook his head. 

“I can see you’re thinking deeply. A plan, I’m sure, to win. I look forward to a good match!”

'... ... ... 

Bakura watched from some distance as the beast tamer—for it was undoubtedly the “Yugi” that Atem had spoken of—and the Pharaoh met on the shadowy streets of Kul Elna. But he lacked the will to slink closer and eavesdrop, and so eventually slipped away into the company of the ghosts.

The spirits that roamed the streets of Kul Elna weren’t, strictly speaking, the villagers. Bakura was unsure what had happened to their souls, and it tormented him to no end. But enough of their wills, their essence, their _lives_ lingered so as to create a spiritual presence. They were attuned, too, to Bakura’s moods and state of mind; they had grown markedly less vengeful over the centuries, and no longer drove at and attacked the Pharaoh without warning. Bakura missed the slight entertainment that used to afford him. 

‘If the beast tamer is here, then...’ Bakura stopped when he caught himself looking around for Ryou; cursed softly. “What do you all think?” he asked aloud, holding out a hand. The spirits responded, swirling around it. “After all this time? What would you have me do?” 

“Are they your family? The ghosts around here?” 

It was all Bakura could do not to jump; he kept his back turned for another moment, while he regained his composure. “Not quite,” he said, a bit breathless despite himself. “More echoes of them. Shadows of the people who lived here.” 

“They must bring some comfort, at least.” 

Bakura nodded, then turned to face the mage. “Yeah.” 

Ryou approached, although slowly. He held his staff proudly, and his white robes lent him grace. “Then... do you believe this is the afterlife? Or something else?” 

“Am I dead, do you mean?” Bakura asked, and Ryou cringed. “I think so. But who knows?” Bakura shrugged, and then said, “That idiot Pharaoh doesn’t think we’re dead.” 

“You know about Yugi, then.” 

“I assumed he’d tell you everything, since he’s your friend. Right?” 

Ryou nodded. “Yugi told me about meeting him—the Pharaoh. I didn’t... I mean, neither of us intended for him to come here, but he offered to help me with a... spell. I suppose he got drawn in, too.” 

“He’s back here tonight, too,” Bakura said, and Ryou blinked in surprise. “He and the Pharaoh must’ve made some sort of connection. Gods know that the Pharaoh’s pretty enamored with him.” 

“He told you, then? About Yugi?” 

“Even though I hadn’t told him about meeting you,” Bakura admitted, then sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “I can’t get any kind of beat on that fool...” 

Ryou paused, then said, “I want to find a way to undo the seal.” 

“That’s what the Pharaoh’s hoping you’ll do,” Bakura muttered. 

“What about you?” 

Bakura scoffed. “Me? I’m pretty sure I’m dead anyhow. I wouldn’t get anything out of a thing like that.” 

“It’s seems more to me like you’re sealed,” Ryou said, and then raised his staff. “May I?” 

Bakura eyed him, then said, “Do whatever you want. Not like you can hurt me.” 

Ryou mumbled an incantation that Bakura didn’t quite catch; the thief started as his body began to faintly glow. With a shrewd eye, Ryou approached to observe the light. He picked up and held one of Bakura’s hands, examining its scarred palm in particular. 

“Your aura isn’t that of someone deceased,” he said, and Bakura tilted his head. “There are certain things that just... _change_, after you die, like the influence of your ego. You read as very much alive to me.” 

“And I suppose you’re some kind of expert,” Bakura grumbled, snatching his hand away. The visible aura faded. 

“Well, this is the first time I’ve dealt with anything exactly like this,” Ryou said. “But it’s also not everyday that souls end up sealed this way.” 

“And if I am dead? Then what?” 

“And if you’re not?” Ryou countered. “Isn’t that worth the chance?” 

Bakura scoffed. “Please. What’ve I got to hope for?” 

“Didn’t you enjoy life when you were alive?” Ryou challenged. 

“Enjoyed it? I made the best of it,” Bakura replied. “And I was the King of Thieves. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t steal—food, treasure, even lives. The gods were frightened, because they had turned their backs on me, and I hadn’t suffered for it. I’d grown stronger for it. And I would’ve gone after the gods themselves once I’d dealt with the Pharaoh. I would’ve won, too.” 

Ryou’s eyes traced the scars along Bakura’s leanly muscled arms, then found and settled on the one that marred the left side of his face. “This time, you wouldn’t have to worry about fighting any gods.” 

“Who says I wouldn’t want to?” Bakura smirked. “A thief does what he wants, _takes_ what he wants. I couldn’t play tame, settle down, learn a respectable craft... live by the gods’ laws. Heh! If I got another chance, I’d live just the same.” 

“That would be your choice,” Ryou said reasonably. 

“I’m a thief,” Bakura’s eyes gleamed; he seemed feral, and his lips curled in a wicked little grin. “That’s not just my way of life, it’s _who I am_. I might even decide to steal you, one day.” 

“I could think of worse fates,” Ryou replied. 

Bakura lost a bit of his haughtiness. “Really.” 

“Honestly.” Ryou replied. “You’re very handsome. And not a bad person, despite what you say.” 

Bakura blinked, then looked away. Though three thousand years was a long time, he couldn’t have lost his touch _that_ much. Then again, Ryou was unusual—perhaps, even at his peak, the King of Thieves would have been unable to rattle him. 

“You could live with me, at least until you figure out what you want to do.” 

Bakura sneered. “You should be scared of me.” 

“That’s probably true,” Ryou said, with a chuckle. “But I’m not. And I think that’s... good. So, what do you think?” 

And Bakura, feeling strangely flushed, could only mutter, “We’ll see. Try it, if you really want. We’ll see.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and support--you guys mean the world to me. ;w;

When Yugi turned up at Ryou’s house the next afternoon, after school, he was decided. 

“I want to get them out. Tell me how I can help.” 

Ryou pulled him into a tight hug, then ushered him into the apartment. They got schoolwork out of the way, first, and then set up a small Monster World board. 

“So they can _for sure_ interact,” Yugi said. “Atem referencing them playing games proves that.” 

“He also said Bakura hasn’t agreed to that in centuries,” Ryou pointed out. “Although Bakura said something about not being able to get a beat on him, very casually...” 

“They can’t possibly still be at each other’s throats after three _thousand_ years sharing a space, right?” 

Ryou fidgeted, then said, “I’m not sure the Pharaoh has the best... perspective. If there’s a wounded party, it’s likely Bakura. I’m not saying the Pharaoh is bad,” he hurried to add, when Yugi gave him a _look_, “but I’m saying they’re both products of their environments. The Pharaoh came from a place of privilege—the _highest_ privilege. He was considered a god. Whatever grievances Bakura and his village had, it’s unlikely they were given fair consideration. The fact that Atem doesn’t know the context of that—or actively chose not to share it—indicates that pretty clearly.” 

Yugi wanted to argue, but had to admit—silently, at least, to himself—that Ryou was likely correct. And anything he could say about Ryou not having met Atem was equally true for Yugi and Bakura—he couldn’t pass judgement on this King of Thieves without meeting him. 

“If we get them together, then we’ll see for sure,” Yugi said at last, and Ryou, though still visibly nervous, agreed. 

After some debate, Ryou and Yugi set their miniatures up in a makeshift camp—an attempt to reach Kul Elna _together_, this time. They shared supper, and then both curled up in Ryou’s bed, the artifact between them. Though Ryou had expressed some anxiety about forcing the Thief King and the Pharaoh into close proximity, Yugi firmly believed it was the most effective way to move forward. 

It took Yugi some time to fall asleep. He couldn’t tell if Ryou was still awake—his friend could go eerily still at times, so that could’ve been the case. Yugi ran through boring card statistics in his head in an attempt to lull himself, but eventually gave that up. He focused on his breathing and, when it didn’t work, either, began to count Ryou’s breaths.

... ... ... 

“Hey. Atem.” 

Atem was hunkered against a wall; Bakura had been watching him for hours and seen no movement. Finally bored of it, he’d approached. 

“Hey. Pharaoh!” 

Atem raised his head slowly; blinked up at Bakura, then squinted. “Oh. It’s nighttime.” 

Bakura snorted. “Yeah. What’ve you been doing down here? Crying your eyes out?” 

Atem didn’t respond to the barb. “No. I was... thinking. About the last fight with Zorc. About what went wrong. And about the moment I was sealed.” 

“Sealed...” Bakura echoed, exasperated. “Still stuck on that? We’re _dead_. Even if we got out of wherever this is, we’d just be lost spirits wandering around.” 

Atem shook his head, but he didn’t bother arguing. He was weary, and the idea of arguing with Bakura appealed even less than usual. “You’re saying the mage accidentally found his way into the afterlife, then?” 

Bakura blinked. “Huh? What’s that—?” 

“That’s not how heka works,” Atem said flatly; let his head loll against the wall. “I’ve never heard of any spell that allows you to visit the afterlife, let alone unintentionally. Seals, though, are malleable. You can manipulate them, and pass in and out of them.” 

“... I mean, yeah,” Bakura admitted. “We are sealed. That’s the only thing that makes any sense. But we’re dead _and_ sealed—no bodies to go back to.” 

Atem shook his head. “You didn’t leave your body—it dissolved. No reason to think it would reform outside of the seal.” 

Bakura was silent, but also didn’t move away. He only looked up at the sound of footsteps, and for a moment his expression cleared. He raised a hand. 

“Ryou!” 

Atem raised his head; scrambled to feet. “Yugi!” 

The little beast tamer waved but hung back; Ryou, however, trotted towards them, and Bakura felt his heart lighten. Trust had never come easily to him, in life, but he found it difficult to doubt Ryou’s keen, kind eyes. 

“Aah, you’re the mage!” Atem exclaimed, and Bakura felt a flicker of irritation at his intrusion. “A friend of my Yugi’s, yes?” 

Ryou looked surprised, but nodded; bowed. “And you the nameless Pharaoh. My name is Ryou.” 

“Please, call me Atem.” 

As Yugi reached Ryou’s shoulder, Bakura was aware of his critical gaze—up, down. Yugi tried to be discrete, but lacked practice in such arts. _What has dear Atem told you about me, I wonder... and what conclusions have you come to on your own, hmm?_

But Bakura didn’t challenge Yugi, instead turning to Ryou. “What brings you here again so soon?” 

Ryou glanced at Atem—with reservations, Bakura was pleased to see. “Well, I’m still trying to figure out the heka that allows us to visit this place—it was an accident that Yugi came through the last two times, so tonight we were attempting it deliberately.” 

“You come from the same land? As Yugi?” Atem asked eagerly. Ryou tilted his head, but obliged with answers and anecdotes about his homeland. Bakura was pleased to note that he’d already heard most of them, and so let his attention settle on Yugi. 

“So... the King of Thieves,” Yugi said, after a beat. 

Bakura grinned—a nasty grin, meant to make people squirm. “At your service.” 

Yugi seemed unbothered, much to Bakura’s amusement. He held out his hand. “I’m Yugi.” 

“Bakura,” the thief replied, and shook his hand. Yugi’s was as soft as was to be expected. “So, Yugi... what do you think? Of this?” 

Yugi thought for a moment, then said, “I think we’re going to get you and Pharaoh Atem out of here. Ryou and I are.” 

Bakura regarded him with amusement; Atem and Ryou had fallen silent, and the Pharaoh was gazing over at Yugi, rapt. “Are you, now?” 

Yugi nodded. “I promise.” 

Bakura blinked, then, and felt his guards slip. Despite Yugi’s initial distrust—and his wariness, still—he seemed earnest. Bakura sensed as much as saw Ryou smile. 

“Well,” the thief scoffed, after a beat, “I can see why Pharaoh Horus is so enamored with you—you’ve got the same shit idealist streak. Bet you’ve never gone hungry, either.”

... ... ... 

Thief King Bakura prowled along the very edges of Kul Elna, staring out at the harsh desert that surrounded them. It was the almost-dark of twilight, and the winds had picked up; in the world of the living, he would have been looking for somewhere to take shelter. But the desert storms never entered Kul Elna in proper, and so he had no fear. 

The ghosts wouldn’t follow him so far, though, and he shivered with the true solitude of the village’s outermost edge. 

“King of Thieves, King of Thieves...” 

The wind called to him, and Bakura kept his eyes down as he walked. 

The demon chuckled—a deep, inharmonious sound. “King of Thieves, King of Thieves... Bakuuura...” 

Bakura shook his head; felt the caustic miasma nipping at his exposed skin like the chill of a moonless night. The demon was _here_, in the desert. And, though the seal didn’t allow either to enter the other’s domain, they could speak on the border. 

Zorc couldn’t touch him, though, and so Bakura felt no fear—only a stale sense of revulsion and boiling resentment. 

“Having fun playing with the Pharaoh?” the demon asked, falling into step beside Bakura. “You haven’t forgotten all that he and his line _did_, have you?” 

“Shut up,” Bakura muttered. “I’ve got no need for your lies.” 

“Then why stray to me, hmm?” the demon queried. “Why not stay in the safety of your dead village?” The voice, though deep, had an odd patience about it—a mentor appealing to a stubborn student. “It’s because you wish to know if I’ve seen them—the white mage, and his friend. Yes; I’ve been watching.” 

“Don’t touch him,” Bakura said, before he could bite it back, and instantly regretted the vulnerability. 

“Then don’t let him wander out into the desert,” the demon replied, and chortled. “But truly, you and I have a common interest.” 

“Any contract we had turned to sand along with my body,” Bakura muttered. 

“Not a contact—simply a common goal. You wouldn’t want the Pharaoh to escape this place, now would you? What justice would that be for the Thieves of Kul Elna?” 

Bakura didn’t reply. 

“When the white mage cracks the seal, because he _will_ manage to, I won’t keep you from leaving. Penance, if you will, for the whole... turned to sand thing. But, in return, you’ll help me prevent the Pharaoh’s escape. His guard has dropped around you, far more than is wise. He doesn’t think you’re any threat to him, not now. But you’ll turn on him, at the last moment, and his soul will remain _trapped_, tortured—alone, truly, this time. And you can run off with your little mage. What do you say?” 

Again Bakura didn’t speak; stopped walking. The demon stilled beside him like a shadow. 

“... I’ll think about it,” the King of Thieves said, at last, and he meant it.

“That’s all I can ask, Majesty,” the demon replied, and gave a shallow, mock bow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I missed yesterday!! I got my wisdom teeth out and spent most of the day asleep, whoops...   
I'll update again tonight, though probably a bit on the late side~

During the daylight, Ryou poured over ancient texts, did research, made calls to experts and local metaphysical practitioners, and gathered supplies. Yugi, accordingly, spent most of his time at Ryou’s apartment, helping where he could and otherwise keeping up with cooking and household chores and schoolwork. Ryou also sneaked back into his father's museum exhibit and swiped a second artifact—the Millennium Puzzle. _"If I have one of the Items, then you should, too,"_ he'd told Yugi, upon presenting him with the pendant. Though Yugi could scarcely believe how far he'd gotten himself involved, he'd accepted the artifact without question. It felt warm when he cradled it in his hands. 

During the night, they both visited Kul Elna. 

“We've pinned down the exact locations of the Kul Elna ruins, in our world,” Ryou said, scratching a crude replica of an archeological map in the sand. “If we go there, with the help of the Millennium Items, I believe I can use heka to tear a hole in the seal. I’m fairly certain we can enter—it’s getting you two _out_ that’ll be the real trick.” 

“I’ve already spoken to my grandpa,” Yugi added. “He pulled some strings—he worked at some of those sites decades ago, disarming traps and solving puzzles for archeologists and explorers, and a couple of folks still owed him favors, apparently. We leave three days from now.” 

Atem touched the map lightly; made an indent in the sand with his finger. He murmured, “The palace... was here...” to no one in particular. 

Bakura watched from a few feet back, behind Ryou, his eyes narrowed. Though they’d been talking about such things for approximately a week, now, it was suddenly far more real; imminent, even. He fidgeted. 

Ryou’s heka was authentic—Bakura didn’t doubt that. It was the possibility that any attempt at resurrection might work out _wrong_ that terrified the King of Thieves. He remembered the sensation of his body turning to sand and shuddered, unable to fathom enduring that again. The ghosts, sensing his unrest, blanketed him. 

And then there was the matter of the demon who still lurked in the desert. 

“What do you need from us?” Atem asked. 

“Nothing, at the moment,” Ryou replied. “When we get there in person, I’ll likely want to cast a circle and... pull from your energies, if you will. I’m not sure how much it’ll take to break the seal, but I’d be surprised if one person could manage it.” 

Atem nodded seriously, and for a moment Bakura envied him his simple certainty. He scowled. Ryou, seeming to sense his unrest, glanced back at him. Bakura didn’t meet his gaze. 

“I wonder what the world will be like...” Atem mused, then gave Yugi a glowing smile. “You’ll show us? The place you come from?” 

Yugi nodded. “Of course!” And he began to tell some fanciful tale about lamps that required no flames and how they illuminated even the darkest nights. 

Bakura tasted bile on the very back of his tongue; cleared his throat, and stood. “I can’t stomach this,” he muttered, and then stalked off. He felt the swish of his robes and the ghosts as he walked, and heard the soft footsteps when Ryou began to follow. 

Bakura allowed Ryou to track him through Kul Elna; could’ve slipped away, but didn’t. When he eventually settled in the hollowed-out remains of a small house, Ryou hung back. Bakura appreciated his consideration. 

“Do you think it’ll be so simple?” the Thief King asked at last, and Ryou took the invitation; sat beside him, bundling his pale robes up in his lap. 

“What? I mean, no, of course not. The spell is far more complicated than anything I’ve ever done, and even then it might not work. I have a few variants planned out, if I need—“ 

“Not the spell,” Bakura growled. “Us. The Pharaoh. And me. I mean, he, Atem, he might be able to adapt. I’m a thief—that’s the only thing I know. There’s no place in your civilized world for a thing like me.” 

Ryou softened; reached out and took Bakura’s hand. The Thief King glanced over at him in surprise. “You’re scared.” 

Bakura snorted. “Am not.” 

“You’re making excuses. But really, you’re just afraid it won’t work, aren’t you?” 

Bakura felt his chest tighten. He didn’t answer. 

Ryou squeezed his hand. “This time, you can live how you want, not how circumstances forced you to. And that’s scary, too. But it’ll be worth it, I promise.” 

_The demon will get out._ Bakura felt the words in his throat, but swallowed against them. _It’ll be the same thing, all over again._

Ryou smiled. “It’ll work. And it’ll be worth it.” 

_If Zorc... if he attacks..._ Bakura saw, for a moment, red—the blood of his family flooding across the dusty ground. And then he saw Ryou’s body, torn and lifeless, floating along in it. 

Bakura shook his head sharply, startling Ryou. _No... no. Zorc won’t attack him—he’s the one responsible for opening the barrier. Zorc just wants to make sure the Pharaoh doesn’t make it out..._

And so Bakura squeezed Ryou’s hand; raised it, and kissed its back. “When you get here, I’m sure it’ll all fall into place. Thank you, Ryou.” 

“O-Of course...!” Ryou stammered, his pale skin flushed bright. Bakura smiled, but it was a tired expression. 

Ryou had appeared without warning of explanation, and Bakura’s world had changed. He ran a calloused thumb over the back of Ryou’s hand, thinking that the mage would make a far more beautiful a thing to live for than gold or vengeance. 

“Will you stay with me, Ryou? Once we leave this place?” 

“Of course!” Ryou’s smile bore no shadow—no hesitation. “As long as you want me to.” 

Bakura kissed the back of his hand again. _So be it, then... I’ll make it out. And if I turn to sand, then that's fine, too. But no matter what... I’ll make it out. For you, Ryou, my gem._

... ... ... 

“Think of it, Bakura!” Atem exclaimed, as the horizon lightened with the coming of dawn. “Alive again? How different must the world be, three thousand years later... But Ra will still shine warmly in the blue sky. People live in peace. Water flows across earth and gentle breezes bring word of far away places.”

Bakura heard the words, but couldn’t bring himself to respond. Sullen, he kept his chin rested atop his knees, robe fanned out around him on the ground. 

“And then there’s my Yugi...” Atem murmured, softening. “He’s perfect. So kind and wise... and unerringly loyal to his fellows... his _friends_... You know, I thought I’d look most forward to restful sleep, but now, I don’t want to lose even a moment of Yugi’s company.” 

“You should tell him that,” Bakura muttered—impulsively. “Don’t know how this thing’s gonna end up.” 

Atem looked over in surprise. “Tell him?” 

“How you feel.” Bakura closed his eyes. “Just in case.” 

“Are you going to tell Ryou, then?” 

Bakura’s eyes opened as slits. “Eh?” 

“How you feel.” 

Bakura snorted. “Ryou knows.” 

“Are you looking forward to being with him, Bakura?” 

The King of Thieves felt an uncomfortable squirming deep in his belly. _How... _vulnerable_..._ “I’m looking forward to being alive again. Enjoying some good food. Feeling the stretch of muscles and that satisfying sort of weariness you get after a day’s work. Not that you’d understand that sort of thing, Lord Pharaoh.” 

“Mm...” Atem didn’t respond, and Bakura curled his lip; got up, brushing himself off. 

“Don’t dream too hard. You’ll drive yourself mad—mad_der_.” 

“I do know you, Bakura. Better than you’d like to think.” 

“And you still don’t _understand_,” Bakura spat. “Stop pretending you do.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Bakura stiffened; stopped walking. 

Atem hadn’t risen, but said, “I’m sorry for what we did to you. I hope that we can move past that, in the future—in this second chance at life.” 

“Are you stupid?” Bakura sneered. “Move past it? You can’t be serious.” 

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Atem said. “Or my father. If you want nothing to do with me, once we leave this place, then that’s your choice. But, as my Yugi and your Ryou are such friends, we’ll likely encounter each other at least occasionally. I hope we can... move beyond the unfortunate history we’ve shared.” 

Bakura’s lip curled, but he couldn’t find words to reply—didn’t even know how he _wanted_ to reply. So he stalked off, taking solace in the ghosts that accompanied him. 

The spirits didn’t feel as vengeful as they had in decades, in centuries past. Bakura didn’t quite know what to make of that, and couldn’t pinpoint when the change had occurred. 

The Thief King didn’t venture too close to the edge of Kul Elna; Zorc’s company was the last thing he wanted. So he picked his way through the ruins until he found the house he knew best—even after millennia spent in the village, no place would ever feel more like home. He settled in on the dirt floor, tucked against a weathered corner of the wall, and rested his head back against the stone. Faded memories played out in the hazy air, turned a shimmering gold by the rising sun. 

_Mom..._ Bakura recalled how, in her well-worn dress, she seemed to dance across the dirt floor. She went barefoot within the house, so as not to wear out her sandals any faster than necessary. They’d never had much, but Bakura had only realized that in retrospect—as a child, he’d never noticed a lack. _You did... such a good job, Mom..._

She’d been beautiful—a touch too thin, perhaps, with weary lines around her eyes and callouses on her sun-burnt skin, but beautiful. Always smiling, always tender, always so vocal and emotive with her love. 

_“You must walk silently, so they don’t hear you coming.”_

_“As a crowd moves, so too can you, undetected.”_

_“The lighter your touch, the less likely you are to get caught.”_

_“There are many things to be taken that won’t even be missed by their owner.”_

_“Most merchants account for some amount of theft—they’ve already accepted it’s going to happen.”_

_“People carrying concealed weapons have many tells.”_

_“To unlatch this type of mechanism, this tool is the best...”_

The pharaoh’s house had made them this way—had forced his family and his neighbors to accept thievery as their trade. They had been starving on the wages of the pharaoh, and he’d ruined them when they’d raised objections. He’d publicly declared their craftsmanship inferior and undesirable, and the best tomb builders in the village had been unable to find work. But by thievery, they’d survived. They’d taught themselves the only skill left to them, dismantling the locks and guards they’d once built, and they’d persisted despite the pharaoh’s spiteful efforts. For that, Bakura would always admire his forebearers. 

_You understood, Mom... that’s why... you taught me..._

Bakura’s gaze drifted to a corner of the room. She’d offered things, there, to the gods—to Isis and to Hathor and to Renenutet. 

_“When the pharaoh turned his back on us, the gods did not forsake us,” she told Bakura. “He may have been an earth-bound god, but no man may speak for them. When he faced his judgment, our mother Isis struck him about the head, as one would a wayward child. And Renenutet, not so merciful, smite him for his treatment of us. His successors will each face the same comeuppance, until at last one recognizes their transgression while they’re still in power here on earth and extends apology to us. It may be too late, by now,” she added, with a wry little smile. “Thievery is no longer a learned skill, but now our way of life—our bloodline and legacy. But perhaps, in the future, we will steal on behalf of the pharaoh, as we once built tombs on his behalf.” _

Bakura curled up tighter, longing for her soothing voice; her gentle touch. _Too soon... too soon..._ he lamented silently, and then tipped his head back. _She believed you hadn’t forsaken us!_ Yet the gods, as they always did, had fallen on the side of the pharaoh when the village of Kul Elna met its demise. _Lady Isis! Mother Renenutet! Is she with you now? Or did you allow her faithful soul to be smelt into cursed gold?!_

The gods gave no answer. Indeed, the only god that existed in Kul Elna, now, was the demon-god Zorc. Bakura curled inward, shuddering, and even the ghosts left him to his solitude.


	9. Chapter 9

“I think that’s everything!” Ryou exclaimed, examining the tightly-packed little suitcase. He nestled the Millennium Ring atop his clothes, then zipped it shut. 

Yugi sat beside Ryou's suitcase on the bed, his own bag sitting in his lap. “We’re really doing this?” 

“Of course!” Ryou exclaimed, then grabbed his suitcase and started toward the door. Yugi could only follow, shaking his head in amazement at the recent twists his life had taken. 

Jounochi stood outside the door, arms crossed and expression set; behind him, Anzu and Honda stood firm. Yugi swallowed and Ryou, a bit more taken aback, tilted his head. 

“Guys?” 

“This isn’t okay!” Jounochi burst out, moving forward with such authority as to force them both to back-peddle into the apartment. Anzu and Honda followed, the latter closing the door behind them. “You two’re running off to _Egypt_ now? Do you know how _nuts_ that sounds?!” 

“We’re worried,” Anzu added, her gaze shifting from Yugi to Ryou and then back again. “We just... want to know for sure.” 

“Whether or not you’ve lost your damn minds!” Honda added, and Anzu shot him a disapproving look. 

“I know it sounds bizarre..!” Yugi said, and then motioned helplessly. “_I_ would be skeptical, if I wasn’t experiencing it!” 

“Yugi, you’re talking about the _ghost_ of an ancient pharaoh,” Jounochi said. “That’s some crazy B-movie stuff we’re talking.” 

“It’s true, though!” Yugi objected, and instantly regretted it. He glanced at Ryou, who seemed to have wilted a bit. “It’s true...” 

Anzu was the one who came forward; took Yugi’s hands gently. “If it is true,” she said slowly, “then we’re still dealing with a pretty major trip here, to a whole other country. What if your grandpa’s contacts fall through? What if you end up lost, or stranded somewhere? Out in the desert, god forbid?” 

“I speak some Arabic,” Ryou spoke up softly. “And I’ve been there a few times with my dad. We’ll be fine.” 

“And I have faith in Grandpa’s old friends,” Yugi added. “I’ve even met a few of them, before.” 

“But is this crazy thing worth this kinda effort? This kinda risk?!” Honda demanded. 

“Yes!” Ryou replied, without flinching. 

There was a beat of silence, and then Jounochi audibly exhaled; scratched the back of his neck. 

“You guys are gonna be safe about this?” he asked, and Yugi nodded. Then, before Yugi could dodge away, Jounochi bundled him into a suffocating embrace. “‘Cause I won’t forgive you if you don’t come back, okay?! You both make it back, you hear?” When he pushed Yugi away, he was grinning—teary-eyed, but smiling. “And I’ll look forward to meeting this pharaoh guy, okay?”

... ... ... 

The flight was rough—a little over twelve hours split between three planes. Ryou did slightly better than Yugi, seeming able to fall asleep regardless of their surroundings. Yugi asked him if he was visiting Kul Elna, but Ryou shook his head; said it wasn’t a deep enough sleep for that.

Though Ryou seemed willing to press on ahead, Yugi insisted that they stop in the hostel that his grandfather had booked for them. Everything else aside, it was the first time Yugi had been outside of Japan, and the exotic sights were captivating. 

“We can spend a bit of time, here, afterwards,” Ryou said, noticing Yugi’s fascination. “I was here a few times with my father, when I was small, but I haven’t been back in years.” 

Ryou spoke a bit of Arabic, and the hostel-owner spoke a bit of Japanese, and so they muddled through checking in and ordering dinner. Then they both slept—_too_ deeply, this time, to dream of Kul Elna.

... ... ... 

Ryou woke first—sleep rarely lasted long, for him. He fetched out his white mage miniature and held it lightly in his hands, feeling its minuscule weight in the physical world.

_You... are me. Without you, I never would’ve encountered the King of Thieves... never would have come to Egypt to retrieve him._

Ryou held the miniature to his chest. There were many things in his life that he had to thank his Monster World character for—sanity, stability, friendship, and more joyful nights spent campaigning than he could count. This was just another on the list. 

When Yugi woke hours later, Ryou had unpacked and then repacked the backpack that contained all the components of the spell. The two didn’t speak as they changed into clean clothes, then grabbed their things and headed out onto the streets of Egypt. 

Yugi’s grandfather had an old associate meet them at the edge of the city, and they clambered into his car. The older man spoke Japanese well, and so Yugi made cordial small talk—about school, and about the research project that had supposedly brought them to the ruins of the unnamed village. Ryou remained mostly silent, staring out the window at the endless expanse of desert. He held the small backpack on his lap, clutching it close. 

“You boys’ve got enough water, now?” the old man asked, when he let them out. 

“Yes, sir.” Yugi hefted the bag containing their water and lunches. “Thank you, again.” 

“Anything for my old buddy Sugoroku!” the man said, grinning. “I’ll be back at sunset to pick you up, okay?” 

“Thank you,” Yugi said again, and bowed. Then the car drove off with a cloud of sand, leaving Yugi to wave as it vanished back over a sand dune. He turned; began, “Ryou, wasn’t he—?” but trailed off. 

Ryou had wandered a few steps towards the ruins; was staring off into them, mesmerized. Yugi swallowed. It was undoubtedly the same place they had visited countless times during sleep, and seeing it spread out before them in the wakeful world was surreal. Yugi joined Ryou; stood still, for a moment, at his side. 

“That’s where they are,” Ryou said softly, and then crouched down; rustled around in his bag. He pulled out the Millennium Ring, and then the second Item, the Millennium Puzzle. He handed the later to Yugi, then gazed down at the former, held reverently in both his hands. 

“Should we head in?” Yugi asked gently. 

Ryou nodded, then took a deep breath; stood. “Let’s go.” 

The streets of Kul Elna were familiar to them both—exactly as they appeared in dreams. Yet this time there was the knowledge, astounding, that this was no dream. When Yugi glanced over at Ryou, he realized his friend was trembling. 

“On three?” Ryou asked, opening the chain of the Millennium Ring. 

Yugi nodded; poised the Millennium Puzzle in a similar way. As Ryou counted softly down, Yugi felt his heart pick up speed. 

He could _feel_ Atem nearby, and when Ryou said, “Now,” he slid the pendant on with a rush of anticipation.

... ... ... 

Atem raised his head. “They’re here!”

“Obviously,” Bakura muttered, from his spot on a nearby rooftop. “Didn’t you feel it when they came in?” 

“They’re so close...!” Atem paced, first one way and then the other. “Bakura, they’re—!” 

“I _know_!” Bakura snarled, and Atem started. The King of Thieves glowered down at him, but didn’t speak again. Of course he could feel Ryou, and of course he was excited—he was also anxious and guilt-ridden, remembering his last conversation with Zorc. _And I couldn’t even... warn Ryou about him..._

But Ryou would be protected, Bakura reminded himself. Zorc wouldn’t damage the one person who could open the seal—he couldn’t. The one to suffer would be the Pharaoh. 

Bakura looked up at a sudden disturbance in the still air, and the ghosts rushed up around him. Then, there they were: the mage and the beast tamer, a bit dustier than usual but otherwise just the same as always. Atem virtually leaped forward, though Bakura slithered, slower, down from his perch. 

“Atem!” Yugi called, then, “and Bakura!” 

Though Bakura didn’t acknowledge the greeting, Atem clasped Yugi’s hands; breathed, “You’re really here...” 

“Come off it,” Bakura muttered, brushing himself off. “Excitable palace brat. It’s no different, not really.” 

“Not _yet_,” Ryou put in, and smiled when Bakura gave him a look. “It will be soon, though.” 

“It will be, Bakura,” Atem said, and it took a god’s own level of restraint for Bakura to keep from snapping at him. Atem approached Ryou, then, where the mage had crouched down in the sand. “Anything can we can do to help?” 

Ryou shook his head. “Not yet. Are you two alright if I start the process now? Nothing left to do, on this plane?” 

Atem glanced at Bakura; the Thief King shrugged, and so the Pharaoh shook his head. “Proceed, please.” 

“The sun isn’t hot...” Yugi observed, glancing up at the sky; shading his eyes with one hand. “In the real world, it’s late spring, so it’s very warm.” 

“The sun here isn’t really Ra,” Atem said, craning his head to follow Yugi’s gaze. “Just as the stars aren’t really Osiris and Isis, nor is the moon Lord Thoth. It’s only an illusion to give this world more... realism.” 

“The gods have finally abandoned the Pharaoh, just like they did Kul Elna’s thieves,” Bakura sneered, and Ryou glanced at him questioningly. 

“Now’s not the time, Bakura,” Atem said tiredly, a bit plaintively, and Bakura snorted; crossed his arms. 

“What are you doing?” Yugi asked Ryou, who was laying out candles on the ground. 

“Preparing to cast a circle,” Ryou said. “I have to gather enough power to rip open the seal, and that would be impossible without a container for that power—a circle.” 

“That’s when you may need our assistance?” Atem asked. 

“I likely will,” Ryou said. “Now hush—I’ll let you know when I’m done.” 

“How did you get here so quickly, from your land?” Atem asked, turning back to Yugi. “Isn’t it half a year’s travel away?” 

“Not with modern technology,” Yugi said, and then tried to explain. Bakura couldn’t be bothered to listen, although on any other day he might’ve been curious. As it was, he was transfixed by Ryou’s movements within the forming circle. Despite his intentions, he drifted closer to the mage, until he stood only several feet away. 

“Are you excited?” 

Bakura jumped, not having expected Ryou to speak. “Huh?” 

“About getting out of here?” Ryou asked; he didn’t look up from his work, but smiled softly. “Since this was your home, feelings must be mixed, right?” 

Bakura scoffed; muttered, “Yeah...” 

“Regrets?” Ryou guessed. 

“Lots.” 

“Mmm.” Ryou adjusted a candle. “That’s what second chances are for, right?” 

Bakura didn’t reply; couldn’t reply. Ryou didn’t press. 

The sun inched across the sky as Ryou worked, and soon the circle was complete. The mage straightened, his robes a bit less white for his troubles, and then aligned his staff with the northern point of the circle. Atem and Yugi, who had been chatting, fell instinctively silent, and Bakura came to attention. 

“I’m going to cast the circle,” Ryou announced. “Please step inside it.” 

Yugi—and Atem, with him—obeyed. The King of Thieves, however, lingered; swayed, shifting his weight from foot to foot, but did not move. 

“Bakura?” Atem asked. 

Ryou met Bakura’s gaze; Bakura looked away. 

“Listen, we don’t know how this is going to turn out, anyway,” Bakura said at last, when it was near-impossible for him to keep his silence. He bore his teeth. “What if we are dead? What then, Pharaoh? If this place stops existing, where does that leave us?” 

Atem looked uncomfortable, but said, “We’ll proceed to the afterlife, I would hope. We’ll no longer be trapped here, at least.” 

“The afterlife,” Bakura scoffed, inching away from the circle. “And what kind of afterlife is promised to a thief? None, none at all, isn’t that right, Pharaoh?” 

“Surely, Bakura—" Atem began. 

“And that’s a leap you're making, anyway, assuming our souls will even survive the destruction of this place!” Bakura cut him off; felt the agitation of the ghosts around him. He couldn’t tell which side of the argument they fell on, and that unsettled him further. “I don’t even know if my family made it to A’aru! Their souls could’ve been destroyed when they were sacrificed—probably were!” 

“And if we aren’t dead?” Atem implored, stepping to the edge of the circle. “Bakura, this is our chance—it’s yours as much as mine! It’s another chance to _live_!” 

“That’s what you’d like to think!” Bakura snapped. “But you’re sheltered—an idealistic fool! You’ve never had life strip you of _everything_ and then spit in your face! You’ve never felt disappointment so sharp it could slit your throat!” 

“Does the legendary Thief King let fear get the better of him?” a different voice interjected; asked, calmly. 

Atem turned, surprised. Bakura wilted. 

Though Ryou kept his staff pointed north, he stared directly at Bakura and continued: “The King of Thieves who once rivaled the Great Pharaoh? Who sparred evenly with the great god-monster Osiris? Is _that_ King of Thieves about to let fear suffocate and paralyze him?” 

Bakura felt his hands begin to tremble. He wondered if it was his imagination or if he could hear Zorc, watching the argument fell somewhere out in the desert, laughing. “I’m not afraid,” he ground out. 

“Then step into the circle,” the mage commanded, and Bakura swore there was a bit of magic in the words, for he came forward as if compelled to. He nearly kicked a few of the candles, but resisted the urge as he stepped over them. Ryou nodded, just slightly. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bakura muttered, and meant it.


	10. Chapter 10

“Spirit of the North, steadfast Earth, be with us.” As Ryou’s staff swept past the candles, they lit—he moved steadily, without the slightest tremor in hand or voice. “Spirit of the East, boundless Air, be with us. Spirit of the South, passionate Fire, be with us. Spirit of the West, healing Water, be with us.” With the candles lit, and his staff glowing an iridescent gold, Ryou extended the staff upwards; said, “Mother Sky, blessed Nut, be with us,” and then downwards; said, “Father Earth, honored Geb, be with us.” 

There was an odd rumble, and Atem glanced at Bakura; the thief deliberately avoided his gaze. Instead, Bakura scanned the horizons, searching the open desert beyond for any sign of the demon he knew to be watching. 

“Yugi,” Ryou said softly, and reached out a hand. Yugi took it. Ryou’s eyes had closed, the glow around his staff intensifying. “Thanks be, thanks be, thanks be. The circle is cast.” 

Again the ground shuddered, and the ghosts flurried about the ring of candles. Along with the staff, the Millennium Ring around Ryou’s neck began to glow, as did the Puzzle that Yugi wore. An ethereal energy field shimmered into being, encapsulating the four of them within the flickering candles. 

“I’m going to draw from your energies, as well, to try to break the seal,” Ryou advised, a pile of incense at his feet beginning to smolder. It smelled of frankincense and sandalwood, and smoke filtered up around them. His staff grew brighter and brighter, shining with all the brilliance of a captive star as smoke billowed up from the herbs. Bakura felt an odd pull at his insides—not unpleasant, and not weakening, as he expected, but just a gentle tug. He watched, unable to entirely hide his awe, as Ryou gathered heka to him and charged it with the intention of breaking the seal. 

For a moment, Bakura _felt_ Ryou’s fervent intention. It traveled through him like a spark of lightning, and Bakura shivered. He felt, too, Yugi’s steadfast optimism—to him, failure was unthinkable, if only because he believed wholeheartedly in his friend. 

Bakura felt Atem’s swelling hope—the almost childlike quality of it, and the confounding lack of malice. He sensed Atem watching him, but refused to look over; wondered what the Pharaoh was feeling from him, at that moment. 

Ryou’s white robes began to flutter despite the lack of breeze, and he raised the golden staff. “Let it be broken!” he cried, and then rent the staff downwards. 

The sky split, in accordance with Ryou’s motion—a jagged chasm that opened from the zenith to the northern horizon, shattering the supposed normalcy of blue and golden sun rays. Behind that swirled a murky purple miasma, a sea of lost space and time, and the village darkened as if with the fall of twilight. Bakura drew a soft, amazed breath, then looked over sharply as a wave of sand rose from the western desert. None of the others seemed to notice it, too fixated on the sky. 

“That’s...” Atem breathed. 

“Not the real world...” Ryou muttered, sounding mildly concerned. “The Shadow World...” 

“Apophis...” Atem breathed. 

It was all Bakura could do not to correct him. _No... not Apophis... Zorc Necrophades._

“It’s alright...” Ryou flexed his grip on his staff and took a step forward. “It’s fine... The circle hasn’t broken, so it’s—" 

The ground lurched suddenly, and Ryou gave a startled squeak; Bakura reached out impulsively, grabbing his arm to stabilize him, and Ryou gave the Thief King a grateful glance. Then a sheet of sand, like driving rain, struck the side of the magic circle, and it’s inhabitants all flinched. Bakura lowered himself, bracing against the assault that never reached them within their circle. 

Never before had the desert winds brutalized Kul Elna’s ancient roads, and Bakura shivered. 

“What was that?” Atem breathed. 

“Are you certain no one is still trying to maintain the seal?” Ryou asked, looking from Bakura to Atem and back again. “You can’t think of anyone, unlikely or not?” 

Bakura took a deep breath; he wasn’t sure why he spoke, but it seemed the only thing to do. “Nothing trying to maintain the seal. Just something else trying to get out.” 

Atem looked bewildered, for a moment, and then his eyes focused on something behind Bakura; they grew wide and bright with horror. Bakura felt a strange sense of satisfaction—the deception was over. He had no desire to turn and face the demon. 

“Well, well, Lord Atem. We meet again, after three tortuous millennia of separation. Have you spared a thought for my fate? Or only endlessly bemoaned your own?” 

Atem’s mouth was open, but no words came forth; he stared, and continued to stare until Yugi pulled gently on his shoulder. 

“Pharaoh?” 

“Mahad...” The name left Atem as a breath, and then he cried it. “Mahad! What’s the meaning of this?!” He started forward, but Bakura stepped to block his path. 

“He’s the demon’s vessel, Pharaoh,” Bakura murmured. “No priest of yours, but the High Priest of Darkness, now.” 

“Mahad?” Yugi asked, seeming intrigued. He looked from the demon to the Pharaoh. “This is Mahad?” 

At last Bakura spared a glance over his shoulder; sighed. Indeed, the priest Mahad stood just on the other side of the circle, hands spread slightly. The golden accents on his robes had been stained violet, and his hair was a bit more chaotic than he ever would have suffered in life. He wore a serious expression, one which could be called typical of when he was alive. 

“But you’ve done something, at last, to atone.” Mahad smiled approvingly, and for a moment there was no shadow of the demon—just the wise, kind priest. He raised his staff. “You’ve allowed me to go free.” 

“Get back!” Ryou shrieked, shoving Yugi behind him. A blast of violet heka struck the circle and Ryou cried out; Bakura felt the impact like a gust of wind, almost enough to knock him off his feet. Atem went down onto one knee with a stifled cry. 

“Ryou!” Yugi clutched at his friend’s arm, even as Ryou gave himself a shake. “Are you alright?” 

“I can’t... the circle won’t hold...” Ryou breathed. “One or two more like that... and...” 

“Mahad!” Atem rose; staggered forward. Bakura felt his lip curl, despite himself, over how pathetic a display it was. “Why, Mahad?! And you’re here? How long? And why—?” 

“Ask your little thief-friend.” Mahad tipped his head toward Bakura. “He’s known about me for quite some time.” 

“We had a contract once, Zorc,” Bakura muttered. “Of course I could sense your grimy presence.” 

“And now you’ve opened the seal for me.” Mahad gave a mock bow. “All praise to my generous Lord Pharaoh.” 

Atem looked ill, but couldn’t speak before Mahad launched another assault on the circle. Ryou didn’t cry out this time, but hunkered down with his staff held up in both hands. The candles flickered wildly. 

“But Mahad!” Atem tried once more. “What of Mana? And Seto, and Isis, and the others? What of my father? Are you turning your back on them, as well?!” 

Mahad’s expression faltered, then warped into a disgusted glower. “It is _you_, Lord Atem, who betrayed your honored father! You doubted—you looked at this wretched thief with _sympathy_ in your eyes, and you asked if fighting him was truly the best path! Your honored father would’ve been _slain_ by such a betrayal of the heart!” 

“But my father knew nothing of the slaughter at Kul Elna!” Atem argued. “You told me that the guilt of it sent him to his grave!” 

“And imagine turning your back on the thing he eventually gave his life for—decrying the peace that he obtained, through the Millennium Items.” Mahad glared—a wrathful mentor run out of patience with his student’s foolishness. “Lord Zorc is _of_ the Millennium Items—the embodiment of your father’s will. He sings the praises of your father while you denounce him.” 

“I never—!” Atem began, and at once Bakura snarled, “Zorc, you lying piece of shit!” 

“You won’t leave this place,” Mahad declared, and raised his staff once more. “The Dark Lord Zorc and I shall, though, and rejoin the world of the living to spread the ultimate peace—divine darkness.” 

“Everyone behind me!” Ryou shouted, and then lunged forward when Bakura hesitated. The blast of heka struck the circle and it shattered; Ryou, however, had summoned a shield at the end of his staff, and caught the attack. It’s force pushed him bodily back, and he collided with Bakura. 

The King of Thieves felt him shaking with the strain, and felt the tremendous exhale as he released the shield. 

“Bakura.” 

Atem’s voice was unexpected, and Bakura glanced over. The Pharaoh had his eyes fixed on Mahad. 

“Can you feel it, Bakura?” Atem asked. “The seal is broken.” 

Bakura’s eyes snapped wide, and suddenly he laughed; barked, “You expect me to fight for you, Pharaoh?!” 

“Fight for yourself,” Atem replied calmly. “We’re both going to get out of here.” 

Bakura felt his expression soften; hated himself for it. But he could feel the energy fizzing around him, familiar and comforting and entirely irresistible, and so he raised his hand. 

“Come out, Diabound!” 

The ka roared into being, gleaming hide like polished silver even in the dim light. Ryou’s mouth opened, but no sound emerged. 

“The god of Kul Elna,” Atem murmured, and placed a hand on Yugi’s shoulder. “All six of my High Priests once stood powerless before it.” 

“Go, Diabound!” Bakura called. “Spiral Wave!” 

“I’m not the same priest you once defeated!” Mahad called, and raised his staff. “Come out, Magus of Illusion!” 

The sorcerer-ka, like it’s master, resembled itself in its former life, yet had changed. It’s armor had grown sharp and menacing, the once-golden accents dyed blood red against the purple of its cloak. Its staff boasted a blade, now, at its head—sharpened and long enough to run a man clean through. It summoned a shield, not unlike Ryou’s, and the Spiral Wave split on it, hitting the sand on both sides of Mahad. 

“Strike back!” Mahad called. “Black Magic!” 

“Spirit Shield!” Bakura countered, and the ghosts that lingered in Kul Elna materialized to absorb the attack. Above them, the fissure in the sky widened with a guttural creak. “You should’ve picked a stronger vessel, Zorc! That puny magician—" 

A bolt of heka from Mahad’s own staff sliced under Bakura’s guard; struck the King of Thieves squarely in the chest. Bakura wheezed as he lost his breath, bowled backwards and directly into Ryou. 

“There are two magicians, you idiot!” Ryou muttered, shoving him back upright. “Don’t forget about one while you’re fighting the other! Here, let me see...” and he tended to Bakura’s scorched chest with glowing hands. 

“I’ll stall him!” Yugi ducked forward, holding out both his hands. “Pokii! Pao!” 

The two familiars materialized; Pao, the dragon, darted forward and bit sharply down on Mahad’s leg. The magician yelped, hopping in a way most unbefitting the High Priest of Darkness, and kicked out; the Magus of Illusion swept toward Yugi, the bladed end of its staff lowered. 

“No you don’t!” Ryou slid sideways, placing himself between the ka and Yugi. He raised his hand; commanded, “Halt!”

A binding white light coiled around the Magus of Illusion. It struggled, lashing out with its staff, but the spell held. Ryou grimaced, but stood firm. His feet ground into the sandy turf as he fought to stay planted. 

Bakura found, for a moment, that he couldn’t breathe. He’d _seen_ people fighting in tandem before, but being a part of such an effort was foreign to him. After only a few heartbeats, his instinct took over, and he shouted, “Diabound! Finish it!” 

Diabound’s serpent jaws snapped down on the Magus of Illusion, Ryou’s spell shattering between its fangs. The sorcerer ka arched, spasming, and then began to dissipate. Mahad convulsed; dropped onto one knee and coughed up blood. 

“Mahad!” Atem’s voice rose, pleading. “Fight! Cast out the demon!” 

The priest’s only response was a dark chortle; when he looked up, his eyes glowed violet. “My Lord... Atem... I no longer obey your royal command.” 

Bakura felt an odd tugging in his chest—empathy, or something like it. “He can’t tell what’s himself and what’s the demon...” he muttered, and Atem glanced over questioningly. Bakura spoke sideways to him, though still looking upon the priest. “Trust me on this, Pharaoh. When Zorc has ahold of you, you can’t tell. He takes your own desires, your own feelings, and he twists them to his own ends.” 

“Pathetic thief!” Mahad shouted, and pushed himself to his feet. “What a bitter thing you are. You had every chance, and now you envy me this power. Lord Zorc offered you your vengeance, and you were too weak to carry it out. The souls of your precious family must _wail_ in disappointment.” 

“And what’s your goal, Priest?!” Bakura demanded. “What’s Zorc dangling above your pretty head?!” 

“If my Lord Atem had given in to his doubt, to his sympathy for _you_, it would’ve been the end!” Mahad cried. “The royal line, his honored father’s dreams for peace, all the sacrifices that Lord Akhenaden and I had made—it would’ve all come to _nothing_! He had to be sealed away, forever forgotten! You both did!” 

Atem had gone deathly still. “Sealed...?” he breathed. “You, Mahad... I was... from behind...” 

“You failed Lord Zorc,” Mahad said to Bakura, and then swung to Atem, “and _you_ failed your beloved father. Fitting that your pitiable souls would end up sealed here together, in this wretched, deplorable little village of pretty thieves! And it’s _here_ that your souls will _perish_!” 

“He’s about to summon something else,” Ryou warned, stepping to Yugi’s side. “I can feel it...” 

“Not a ka, this time,” Bakura growled, and then took a step backwards. “Zorc...” 

The sky splintered, more cracks appearing in the blue; the fissure had reached the other horizon, too, and purple abyss swirled within. A thick miasma descended, lightning cracklings deep within it. 

Bakura felt his heart beat dangerously fast; clenched his fists to keep his hands from turning to sand. 

Zorc Necrophades descended.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments!! <3 They've been such a motivation <del>ngl, daily updates are a bit of stress</del> and I couldn't keep it up without you! ;w; 
> 
> This chapter features artwork from [rymyanna](https://rymyanna.tumblr.com/post/186815597911/for-yugioh-big-bang-2019)!! Thank you so much for this wonderful piece~

The demon-god, Zorc Necrophades, descended behind Mahad. Kul Elna began to break apart as his clawed feet touched down, patches of ground and whole houses disintegrating, crumbling away into the abyss. The demon-god’s wings beat, stirring up flurries of dust.

The High Priest of Darkness spread his hands. “You see, don’t you, Atem? You’ll perish here, and I’ll carry on your honored father’s dream. With the Millennium Items he saw forged, through the power of the Dark Lord Zorc, and bring peace to the world. Eternal darkness will fall, and the world will rest.”

“That’s not the sort of peace my father wished for!” Atem objected. “Mahad! My father—he trusted you! And you knew him better than any, _served _him better than any!”

“Yes.” Mahad lowered his head. “And when Lord Akhenaden asked me to enter into a contract with Dark Lord Zorc, to sell my soul so that your father’s dream might come to pass, I was honored. And then this _thief _appeared.” Mahad sneered at Bakura, who grimaced back. “And suddenly you, Lord Atem, who I would’ve given my life for, were ready to turn your back on _everything_.”

“You’re wrong!” Atem shouted. “I only thought we should consider—!”

“Enough!” Mahad cut him off, sweeping his staff out. The ground gave an ominous rumble, and Bakura skipped aside with a yelp as a patch of ground went. “Your souls will _burn_!”

Zorc’s dragon head reared up; released a firestorm. Ryou sprang forward, conjuring a shield spell just as Bakura called, “Spirit Shield!” and together they warded off the attack. It was nothing like the Magus of Illusion’s assaults, but with their efforts combined they held it off, at least for the moment.

“How do we get out of here?” Yugi asked breathlessly; Pokii and Pao huddled near his feet. “Ryou?”

The white mage shook his head slowly; his cap had been blown clean off, and his white hair was ruffled. “The Shadows are... death,” he said. “But the fissure opened towards the north—if there’s a gateway back to our world, it’s in that direction.”

“If you took off your Items, you might disappear,” Atem said. “Return to your world.”

“That doesn’t get <i>you</i> out,” Yugi said, reaching out and taking Atem’s hand.

Ryou glanced at Bakura; nodded, and said, “All or nothing. We’re _all_ getting out.”

Another attack came, but Ryou’s and Bakura’s shields held. Atem clasped his hands together; murmured, “Osiris, be with us.”

“Your gods abandoned us long ago,” Bakura growled, and then waved his hand. “Let’s go, Diabound!”

Diabound soared up over the shields; struck at Zorc. The demon god gave a roar of surprise, throwing up one arm to catch the snake’s teeth before they struck his face. Zorc shook Diabound’s serpent head furiously, but the ka’s humanoid portion slammed a fist into Zorc’s horned head.

“C’mon!” Bakura grabbed Ryou’s wrist; skirted an unstable patch of ground and darted forward. Atem and Yugi followed.

“No you don’t!” Mahad slid to intercept them, staff raised. Ryou’s snapped up as well to deflect the bolt of heka that the magician flung at them. But in that instant Mahad flashed past them; drove at Atem with the blade. Atem froze; stared at his once-High Priest, as still as one of the statues that may have been built in his honor.

Pokii, Yugi’s summon, crashed into Mahad’s chest, knocking him sideways; Pao leaped for Mahad’s head, although the Priest got one arm up to block the bite. Blood spurted our from the wound and Mahad grunted; flung Pao off, although ripping off some of his own flesh in the process.

“Come on, Pharaoh!” Yugi grabbed Atem’s hand, meshing their fingers, and pulled him along.

Zorc slammed Diabound into the ground, shaking free already loose chunks of Kul Elna and sending them plummeting into the shadows. Bakura, keeping low, darted past the grappling beasts. His grip on Ryou’s wrist tightened.

“To the north?” he asked, and Ryou nodded; pointed with his staff.

“There!”

A white passageway gleamed at he edge of the village, contrasting sharply with the indigo shadows. True to Ryou’s prediction, it sat at the base of the chasm that his initial spell had opened.

“Couldn’t you’ve put it somewhere more convenient?!” Bakura huffed. “Closer?!”

“It was my first time doing this sort of spell!” Ryou snapped back. “And it would’ve been perfectly close if we didn’t have a demon-god chasing us!”

“What about Mahad?” Atem called suddenly, and Ryou glanced back. “What happens to him?”

“He stays here, Pharaoh!” Bakura called back. “He and Zorc stay right here, trapped in the Shadows!”

Atem slowed despite Yugi’s grip on his hand, and the beast tamer gave a pleading shout; turned, grabbing Atem’s wrist with his other hand, and pulled more insistently. Diabound and Zorc, still battling, broke apart; Zorc swung a fist, smashing it into Diabound’s chest, and Bakura wheezed as though he’d taken the blow himself.

Atem pried Yugi’s fingers free of his; pushed Yugi back, despite his objection, and addressed Bakura. “Go with them. I’m going back for Mahad.”

Bakura’s mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Eventually he spluttered, “You’re _not _serious...!”

Atem nodded. “I’m directly responsible for his current state—for the states that both of you exist in, for that matter. This is the only atonement I can make. I’m sorry, Bakura, for everything.”

“Atem!” Yugi objected, even as the Pharaoh turned and headed back the way they’d come. An otherworldly breeze caught his navy cape—perhaps the spirits of Kul Elna, or perhaps simply empty air.

Bakura, seething, shook Ryou off. “The _nerve_!” he snarled, and then called, “I was planning to leave you anyway! Stupid Pharaoh! Acting all heroic! Spoiled asshole!”

Atem raised a hand, but didn’t otherwise reply. Mahad had slowed to meet him, and met Bakura’s gaze over Atem’s shoulder. The High Priest nodded, then made a shooting motion with one hand.

Bakura’s teeth ground. “Thinks I did it for him... Thinks I’m his pawn all over again!” Ryou glanced questioningly at him, but Bakura had already started back, calling, “You keep that passage open! I’ll _drag _him through if I have to!”

“Returned to me at last, Lord Atem?” Mahad asked, his voice deceptively gentle. He spread his hands. “But I’ll be leaving now, I’m afraid.”

“I can’t let you do that, my friend,” Atem said, and offered his hand. “But I have faith in you. You are not Zorc—you can fight him, cast him out. And then—"

Mahad staff cracked down; struck Atem’s hand with the _crunch _of bones. Atem gave a strangled cry, going down heavily onto one knee.

“Lord Zorc is a far more honorable master than you, Lord Atem.”

A fist smashed into the side of Mahad’s face. The High Priest staggered; hit the ground with a _whump_. Atem scarcely had time to react before he was swooped up, and he wheezed as his breath was driven from him, the sharp point of a shoulder driven into his stomach.

“Idiot Pharaoh...” Bakura grunted. “Making me go through all this...”

Diabound roared as Zorc pinned him to the crumbling ground, and Mahad gave chase with a shout. His first two bolts of heka bounced off of Bakura’s Spirit Shield, but the third landed near his feet; destabilized the already shifting around and tripped him. Bakura stumbled; kept his feet for a few more precarious yards, but couldn’t keep his balance with Atem slung over his shoulder. They both pitched forward, breaking apart and tumbling over the ground. Bakura sprang up, though bruised and dusty, and faced Mahad as he approached.

“Decided to be the hero?” the priest sneered. “Pathetic. You can’t possibly—"

“That’s not it and you know it,” Bakura retorted. “I’d just rather eat my own insides than see any plan of _yours _succeed, Zorc! I still hate the Pharaoh—I’d gut him for one _single _roast fish. But I just figured out that I hate you a lot more.”

In that moment, Zorc fired off a jet of flame; it slammed into Diabound, drilling the ka into the ground, and Bakura grabbed at his midsection as the blow carried through to him. He gasped, feeling his ka convulse; he hacked up blood.

“Pity.” Mahad swung his staff almost lackadaisically, Zorc appearing behind him. “I was going to honor my word. I was going to let you walk away—free. _Alive_. The demon Zorc may lie, but a High Priest does not.”

“I’m telling you...” Bakura ground out, “you can’t... tell the difference...”

“My soul is not as weak as yours!” Mahad shouted, and Zorc’s dragon maw began to flicker with flame. “I have not lost myself!”

“Then prove it!” Bakura snarled; his legs trembled, refusing to move. But he’d faced death before, and was not afraid. “Don’t fail, don’t _die _like I did! Fight against him! Think for yourself! Don’t just play into his hands!”

“Our goals align.” Mahad’s face was grave, and he pointed his staff. It, like Zorc’s jaws, glowed with the readying of an attack. “Now die.”

Bakura felt the ground beneath him rumble, and he braced himself; threw up his arms to shield his face. But the fiery attack never came—a sheet of red scales flooded Bakura’s vision, and then the Pharaoh’s voice: “Osiris! Lightning Bullet!”

The god-ka shrieked; fired off an attack that struck Zorc’s chest, bowling him backwards. Mahad’s staff fizzled out in his surprise.

“The great god...” the Priest breathed. “Osiris... the Sky Dragon...”

Atem appeared at Bakura’s shoulder; said, “The gods haven’t abandoned Kul Elna,” and then raised his voice. “Osiris! Finish it!”

The great red dragon lunged forward, clamping down on Zorc’s throat. Though the demon-god tried to grapple with it, he couldn’t shake loose.

“Diabound!” Bakura called, his voice strangely rough; the ka emerged from the shallow, dusty grave it had been forced into. “Spiral Wave!”

Diabound’s sterling heka, the Spiral Wave, slammed into Zorc’s back; the demon screamed, clawing at Osiris in vein, and then crumpled. Osiris drew back, letting the smoldering body fall.

Mahad took a step backwards; raised his staff, even as Atem approached him. Though the Pharaoh’s right hand hung limp at his side, broken, he extended his left.

“Mahad. It’s over.”

The Priest’s face warped. “You think it’s so easy to defeat a _god_?!” he demanded, and then spat at Atem. “You’re a fool, Lord Atem—a callow, spoiled fool!” His staff began to glow, but not with an attack—as its glow intensified, Mahad’s form lost substance; sand and purple miasma became visible through his very body, and a trickle of smoke-like heka flowed towards Zorc’s remains.

Bakura cursed; grabbed Atem’s wrist, the broken one, and the Pharaoh cried out. “Let’s go! That’s bad news—we need to get out while we’ve got the chance!”

“But Mahad—!” Atem objected, and Zorc’s body jerked with life.

“Lost cause!” Bakura snapped. “C’mon!”

“You weren’t a lost cause, when you were under Zorc’s influence!” Atem argued.

“I _was_!” Bakura snarled. “I absolutely was! The _only _reason I got away was because I turned to sand and wound up sealed here. We were forced apart, Zorc and I—when we were fused, there wasn’t a _damn _thing that could’ve gotten through to me!”

“Then we need to separate Mahad from him!” Atem argued, even as the priest’s body vanished entirely. Zorc lurched; rose up from the sand and _roared_.

“Don’t be a fool!” Bakura snapped, and tightened his grip on the broken wrist.

Atem hissed, but this time didn’t falter. “I’ve failed him, as his Pharaoh! I won’t leave him like this!”

Zorc brought up his dragon-head; fired a burst of flame at Osiris. The Sky Dragon fought back with a Lightning Bullet, and the resulting explosion rocked what was left of Kul Elna. Before the Pharaoh and the Thief King could continue their argument, though, Ryou and Yugi came racing up beside them.

“We’ve got to separate them, you said? You two, weaken him as much as you can,” Yugi ordered, and the Pharaoh and the King could only glance, bewildered, at one another.

“I’ll cover you,” Ryou said, swerving past Yugi with his staff raised. “Bakura! Atem! Keep engaging!”

Bakura gave himself a shake; glanced again at Atem, and shrugged. “C’mon, Diabound! Let’s hit him with everything we’ve got!”

“Osiris! Back him up!” Atem called.

The two ka struck at Zorc, Diabound wrapping one powerful arm around Zorc’s neck from behind and Osiris curling around in front of him. When Zorc focused in on Yugi approaching from the ground, he raised his dragon head; sent fire raining towards the tiny beast tamer. But Ryou summoned a shield, keeping the fiery heka at bay.

“Osiris!” Atem called, and the god-ka fired a Lightning Bullet into Zorc’s chest at point-blank range. The demon roared in pain, reeling back farther into Diabound’s choke-hold. Osiris, too, coiled around Zorc, binding his tail and dragon to him.

“I’m going in!” Yugi called to Ryou. “Give me a boost!”

“Going in?!” Atem shouted, surging forward; Bakura held him back. “Be careful, Yugi!”

Ryou thrust out a hand, summoning several glowing disks; Yugi bounded up them as stepping stones, approaching Zorc. The demon-god snapped at him, thrashing, but the two other ka held him fast. Yugi held out both his hands, palms toward the steaming wound on Zorc's chest.

"Taming Powers: Training Hands!"

"No _way _is he trying to _tame _Zorc..." Bakura breathed, even as the beast tamer's hands took form. They hovered near Zorc's chest and, slowly, began to draw something out.

Atem's eyes brightened with understanding. "No... no, not Zorc... That's _Mahad_! He's trying to pull Mahad _out of Zorc_!"

"Yugi!" Ryou called up, using a spell to raise himself slightly off the ground. "You okay up there?"

"Fine!" Yugi replied, still crouched upon one of the glowing disks; Mahad hung limply across the Training Hands. "Bring us down!"

Ryou nodded; used his staff to guide the disk back towards the ground while Yugi concentrated on holding the Hands steady. As soon as they touched down, Ryou rushed over, throwing up a shield just in time to shelter them from a poorly-aimed attack from Zorc. Mahad was moving, but jerkily; disoriented.

"Let's get away from here," Ryou urged, even as the Training Hands dissipated. Yugi grabbed Mahad's arm and slung it over one shoulder. Ryou motioned to Atem and Bakura. "You two should be able to finish him now, right?"

Bakura grinned fiercely. "With pleasure! Diabound!"

Diabound's serpent fangs tore into Zorc's side, releasing a caustic rush of miasma; Zorc roared, thrashing more furiously, beating at Diabound behind him.

"Have Diabound disengage!" Atem ordered, and Bakura did so—his ka released Zorc, even as Osiris constricted around him. "Osiris! Thunder Force!"

The god-ka opened it's lower jaws wide, then loosed a blinding current of electrical energy. Zorc couldn't seem to so much as make a sound, mouth stretched open as his flesh began to smolder. The air filled with the noxious scent of toxic, burning flesh; Yugi and Ryou were both coughing as they staggered free of the smoke, Mahad stumbling beside Yugi. Pao and Pokii both rushed to their master's side, even as Atem hurried to his Priest.

"Mahad? Mahad, can you understand me? Do you remember, Mahad?"

Mahad reached out shakily; meshed his fingers with those of Atem's good hand. "Young Lord... Pharaoh Atem..."

Atem nodded, tears brimming over as he squeezed Mahad's hand. The smoke was dissipating, revealing the charred corpse that remained of the demon-god Zorc; after a moment, the ground splintered beneath it, beginning to crumble into the Shadows.

"Return to me, Diabound!" Bakura called; Osiris, too, dissolved back into Atem's ba. Bakura skipped backwards as the ground lurched unsteadily beneath him. "Reunions later, Pharaoh! Let's go!"

"Come on," Yugi urged, grabbing Atem's elbow and pulling him—and Mahad with him—toward the white passageway. Ryou trotted to catch up with Bakura, although they didn't stray too far ahead of the others.

"You think that's Death?" Bakura asked softly, jerking his head towards passageway. "The afterlife?"

"Even if it is, it beats eternal Shadow," Ryou said, and took Bakura's hand.

Together, the five of them forged ahead into the Light, even as the Shadows swallowed what they had left behind.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for being a day late with this one! I'm not sure if I've ever had occasion to mention it in any of my notes, but I'm a practicing Kemetic myself. As such, this chapter is near and dear to my heart, so I didn't want to rush the final edits~ 
> 
> That said, I so hope you enjoy this chapter! Only the epilogue after this one!~

In the wake of Kul Elna and it’s shadowy destruction, the silence of the white passageway was disorienting. The portal closed behind them, and Mahad sagged between Yugi and Atem; all three of them went to the ground, Pao and Pokii hovering close around Yugi’s feet. 

“My Lord... forgive me...” Mahad rasped, lowering his head. 

Atem grasped his shoulders. “It’s already forgiven, my old friend. I simply give thanks to every god that we were able to retrieve you.” 

“After we argued... when we fought Zorc...” Mahad shook his head. “The demon, my Lord! He prayed on my fear and convinced me that you would destroy all your father had done. I sealed you, Lord Atem! I cannot be forgiven so easily for such a thing!” 

“Stop your damn posturing,” Bakura cut in gruffly, and Mahad’s head snapped up; his eyes widened as he seemed to notice the Thief King for the first time. “Zorc twists your feelings until you can’t tell anymore, what’s you and what’s him. It’s no disgrace that you fell for a thing like that.” 

“It’s already forgiven, Mahad...” Atem repeated, and pulled the Priest to him; cradled Mahad’s head against his chest. “My friend... I’m so glad to see you, again.” 

Mahad began to speak, but choked; merely nodded into Atem, and then whispered, “I am not worthy, my Lord...” 

“Where do you think we are?” Bakura asked Ryou, wandering a bit ahead. Ryou stuck close to his side, peering around. 

“Some sort of... passageway...” he said slowly, and scanned with his staff. “An in-between, if you will.” 

“But between what?” Bakura growled. He reached out; touched a bit of the fizzling white energy that surrounded them, and was met with a painless resistance. 

“You two can come back, now,” Yugi murmured to his familiars; he hugged Pokii to his side, and stroked Pao’s head. They vanished, and Yugi stood, trotting to catch up with Ryou and Bakura. “Can you open a way home from here?” he asked the mage. 

Ryou fidgeted. “Something tells me that wouldn’t end well,” he said. “The heka here is far stronger than my own. But it’s not shadow magic, so at least there’s that. I don’t think we’re in immediate danger.” 

“Shadow Magic cannot exist here,” came a stern voice, and all three of them turned. Out of the blinding white came a sleek black creature, smaller than suited such a voice and canine in form. The jackal looked at them; continued, though his mouth didn’t move. “There is only the heka of Ma’at here—the forces which judge the worthiness of souls.” 

“No _fucking_ way...” Bakura breathed, taking a step backwards. Ryou caught his arm, genuinely afraid that the thief might try to run from the Accouter of Hearts, Lord of the Duat. 

Anubis looked over his shoulder as another figure emerged from the white—a green-skinned man clad in pharaoh’s finery. Mahad, though still on the ground beside Atem, had flattened himself to the ground in supplication. 

“Your souls, of course, have already been judged,” Osiris said, “by the war you just waged against the demon-god, Zorc. We’ve been aware of him, of course, and dreading the day he managed to break free of the seal. You’ve done the gods a great service by leaving him to rot in the Shadows.” 

“We really are dead, then...” Bakura mumbled, and then looked sharply over at Ryou; back at Osiris. “But what about—?!” 

“The two young ones are very much alive,” Osiris cut in gently, and Yugi let out a relieved sigh. 

“But what about the Thief King Bakura? And the Pharaoh Atem?” Ryou asked softly. 

Osiris seemed almost bemused. “Neither dead nor alive—sealed. Or, not so sealed, now.” 

“So what happens?!” Bakura demanded. “What happens to us, now?!” 

“You may choose.” Osiris motioned behind him, and the white shimmered; faded out into a picturesque scene of a village beside the Nile’s lush bank. Bakura nearly tripped as he stumbled forward. 

“That’s...!” 

“Your kinsmen have found peace, in the afterlife.” It was Anubis who spoke, now a jackal-headed man who came to stand at Bakura’s shoulder. “It was a tragic day, when each and every one of their souls filed past me to be judged. But not one of them tipped my scale.” 

“Their souls, then...” Bakura breathed, and went to his knees; Ryou crouched down beside him, holding tightly to one of his hands. “Thanks be...!” 

“And your father awaits you, young Pharaoh,” Osiris said, addressing Atem. “In fact, the two of you have many comrades to reunite with.” 

“You can’t mean that even I...?” Mahad began, and then cried, “Lord Osiris, I betrayed my Pharaoh! My soul—!” 

“Even in your final moments, in the distant past, you helped your young apprentice to seal you away, and so to seal the demon away as well. Or have you forgotten?” Osiris asked. “If your soul had been completely corrupted, there would’ve been no hope of retrieving you, no matter how skilled this young beast tamer or how dedicated your noble Pharaoh. The demon never consumed you, not entirely.” 

Mahad bent his head; his shoulders quaked, but only once. Atem embraced him. “I... would like to see her... Mana...” 

“And you, Pharaoh?” Osiris asked. “Would you like to return to the world of the living? I’m sure your father would understand. Your life was cut very short by these tragedies.” 

Atem glanced at Yugi; said, “Lord Osiris, I... am not worthy of such a choice.” 

“Yet it is yours. Think.” The god turned to Bakura. “And the thief of Kul Elna?” 

Bakura squeezed Ryou’s hand; felt its solidness, and didn’t fear his own turning to sand. “I want to live. I know they’re safe, now. They’ll be there when I go in my own time. Mom would want that, too—a thief grabs what they can and runs with it, that’s what she said. I’m grabbing this second chance.” 

Osiris nodded, seeming appreciative. He raised his head once again. “Pharaoh?” 

“You won’t consider it, Mahad?” Atem implored. “Living again?” 

Mahad smiled at him, but it was an exhausted smile. “Lord Atem, I love you deeply. You are, of course, my Pharaoh, and my friend. But I’m weary. And... I must apologize properly, to your father. And thank Mana, for assisting me in those final moments. I can’t wait to hear of her accomplishments... I only wish I could’ve been there to see them...” 

Atem nodded; embraced his Priest once more, tightly, and then they stood together. They walked toward Osiris; although Mahad went on ahead, Atem stopped at Yugi’s side and said, “I will graciously accept this second chance, Lord Osiris." 

“Let me see that hand...” Anubis murmured, picking up Atem’s broken hand—now swollen and inflamed. With a skilled hand, the god bound it tightly in herbal bandages; gave its back a gentle pat. “Should be good as new when you revive.” 

“Thank you, my Lord.” Atem bowed deeply, and the god dipped his head in turn. 

“Come here, young one,” Osiris said, motioning to Ryou. Ryou stiffened, then nodded; released Bakura’s hand and made his way cautiously forward. “Let me see your staff.” 

Ryou handed the object over, and Osiris ran two fingers along the curve of its top. A row of hieroglyphs appeared briefly, then vanished. 

“That spell will return the four of you to your own plane,” the god said, handing the staff back; Ryou held it reverently. “The spell won’t work more than once, though, so you won’t be able to return to this place.” 

“Of course. Thank you, Lord Osiris.” Ryou bowed, and the god smiled. 

“You’re skilled at your craft. A pity you were born in a time where heka is no longer practiced openly, not honored as a gift from the gods.” 

“M-Meeting you is honor enough...!” Ryou stammered, and then stepped back to Bakura’s side. 

Mahad raised a hand, his smile a little less weary this time. 

Atem waved; called, “Say hello to them all, for me! To my father, and Mana... and Seto and Isis, and Karim, and Shada! And give Siamun a hug for me, alright?” 

Mahad’s smile eased further. “I will. Thank you, my Lord. Please, live this new life to its fullest. I look forward to hearing about it, when we reunite.” 

Mahad and Osiris turned; walked off into the gleaming white of the afterlife. Anubis bounded behind them, then vanished ahead of them into the mist. Atem stared after them, and lit up when a figure appeared in the distance—lithe, graceful, more mature than he remembered. But her energy was the same. She bounded excitedly around Mahad, bouncing and flailing before she leaped onto him with nearly enough force to knock him over. Mahad embraced her, then turned and pointed back the way they’d come. 

Atem felt tears roll down his face; raised his hand and waved wildly. Mana leaped up and down, both arms waving. But then she settled and turned back to Mahad; together they rejoined Osiris, then carried on until the light had swallowed them up. 

“Regret not going with him?” Bakura asked, and Atem shook his head. 

“No... no. I just... I’m not exactly dreading the day I do return to this hall.” 

“Neither am I,” Bakura admitted, bumping his shoulder into Atem’s. 

The Pharaoh glanced at him in surprise, then smiled. “I suppose not.” 

“Are you both ready?” Ryou asked, running his fingers along the top of the staff. 

Bakura glanced at Atem; waited until the Pharaoh nodded before he said, “Yeah. All set.” 

Yugi came to Atem’s side, and everyone clustered slightly closer to Ryou as he raised the staff. The hieroglyphs glowed, and a flash of golden light enveloped them a moment later. Ryou felt the power of ancient gods flowing through him, and he wished he could cry out with the ecstatic, overwhelming sensation. 

Then the heka faded, and they stood once again beneath the hot Egyptian sun in the physical remains of Kul Elna. Ryou, drained, stumbled; found he no longer had his staff to lean on. But before he could fall, Bakura’s hands supported him. 

“We made it back!” Yugi exclaimed, and then turned to Atem. “We made it!” 

But the Pharaoh—still clad in his ancient robes, a living relic standing in a remote archaeological site—was staring quizzically at him. Bakura seemed to catch on slightly quicker; he said something in his own archaic language to the Pharaoh, who then put one hand to his forehead, his expression making his distress clear without the need for words. 

“I had a feeling,” Ryou said, in imperfect—but understandable—Ancient Egyptian. 

Bakura spun to face him; grinned, astonished and amazed. “You beautiful creature!” he exclaimed, and swooped over; bundled Ryou up and kissed him, for the sheer joy of it. “Aah, we’ll have to work on that accent, but—" and he trailed off, seeming to realize what he’d done, and glared over his shoulder at Yugi and Atem.

“We’ll figure it out, I’m sure...” Ryou said, in that same ancient language. He wrapped his arms around Bakura, kissed the Thief King softly, and then embraced him. “Welcome back.”


	13. Chapter 13

“You stand on the edge of the desert, relieved to have reached the other side. You can hear a stream nearby, and the mere sound of running water refreshes you.” 

It was six months after the Kul Elna incident, and the party had just survived a traitorous campaign across the unforgiving desertscape that Ryou had crafted for them. Along the way, they had reunited with their friend, the white mage. They’d also encountered a rather unlikely pair: a runaway prince and a savvy, scarred thief who’d fled the royal city together. The party had been willing and eager to welcome the two as comrades. 

“Finally!” the warrior, Jounochi, exclaimed. “I could do with a rest!” 

“No objections?” Ryou asked the party, and received none to speak of. “The group opts to stop beside the river. The only sounds are birdsong and the soothing babble of the water, and they settle down to share a meal and rest.” Ryou paused; stretched his hands out in front of him, fingers interlocked. "Everyone good for an actual break? I did some baking, earlier." 

There was an enthusiastic agreement from around the table, and Bakura, from where he sat beside Ryou, sprang up and darted for the kitchen. Ryou ran after him, shouting something about saving some for the guests. 

Atem, running his fingers absently through Yugi's hair, said to the group, "Thank you again, for welcoming us like this," in Japanese that was growing more understandable by the day. While Atem had picked up reading the foreign letters far quicker, Bakura had taken better to the spoken language. 

Jounochi waved one hand. "You don't have to say that every time, man!" 

"Y' couldn't get rid of us now if you tried!" Honda added, with a laugh. 

"You're our friends, now," Anzu added, smiling kindly. "You're very welcome." 

Atem bowed to her, a slightly awkward thing with Yugi on his lap. Much to the initial bewilderment of Yugi's friends, the two had been dating since they'd returned from Egypt. Jounochi had broken the tension by joking, _"I see why you got so crazy, wantin' to bring him here! He's one gorgeous guy, and royalty, on top of it!"_

Atem hadn't been able to understand the language, then, and been terribly confused as to the laughter and Yugi's suddenly bright red face. 

For some time, Ryou had needed to translate for them both. But Bakura, again, had been a quick study—surprisingly so, especially considering his total lack of written literacy. He claimed it was a matter of having the advantage over Atem, but it was clear he actually enjoyed learning, regardless of his self-serving excuses. Bakura, too, was better at blending in with the modern-day, despite his visible scars and even if he didn't yet understand it all. Atem was a bit of a riskier proposition, when it came to taking him out in public, far less practiced at not drawing attention to himself. He stayed with Yugi and his grandfather, delighted to help out at the game shop. Learning modern-day games—Duel Monsters included—had come far easier than mastering the new language. 

When Ryou and Bakura returned, it was with plates of cookies and cream puffs and traditional Egyptian sweetbreads. There was cream on Bakura's lip, and he licked absently at it as they put the plates down. 

"I'll be right back," Ryou said, and then excused himself. He tended first to the small Kemetic shrine in the corner, lighting a fresh incense cone, and then disappeared into his bedroom. 

"When're'y'gonna ask him out?" Jounochi asked Bakura, through a mouthful of sweet-bread, as soon as he was gone. "Take your cue from the Pharaoh, man!" 

"Jounochi!" Anzu scolded. 

Bakura only bore his teeth playfully, then popped a cream-puff into his mouth. "You don't know how a thief goes about things like that, kid." 

"Yugi is mine," Atem announced, nestling into Yugi from behind. "That's how a Pharaoh does such things." 

"Pharaoh, please..." Yugi whined, but his struggles were half-hearted. While their friends laughed over the scene, no one—save for perhaps Atem himself—noticed the thief slip off, silent as a ghost. 

Ryou was just moving to return when he was bundled, a bit roughly, into his bedroom closet. The door shut, plunging them into darkness, leaving only the tactile sensation of skin-on-skin and the heady scents of incense and sweet-breads. 

"We have to get back..." Ryou objected softly, but kissed back when weathered lips were pressed to his own. He tasted cream and honey. 

"Let me steal you away, for a minute..." Bakura growled, in his old tongue. "That's how a thief goes about things..." 

"What are you talking about...?" Ryou mumbled, matching the language. But he tolerated the affections, then groaned and pressed into Bakura as the kiss deepened. "Steal me, then. Whenever you want." 

"Ryou?" 

"Hmm?" 

Bakura stilled, for a moment; drew back, but not far enough to break the physical contact. "Thank you." 

And Ryou kissed him, sweetly, in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLESS, to all who've read this!! I appreciate you so sincerely~ 
> 
> Thanks again to the artists who lent their work to this fic!


End file.
